"Of course I do. I need to learn much more as a wizard if I am to reach my potential. Yet even that has suffered since I became king."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I do not mean to scold you. But you have a great destiny with the One G.o.d."

He bristled at the idea that he had a destiny proclaimed by a G.o.d-any G.o.d. "Zaephos gave me no commands like those he gave to your father. He did not ask me to create a religion, or help your father with his. I have learned much of dalar-aelom, and practice it in my own way."

"Yet you keep your involvement secret, Your Majesty. Were you to declare openly that you follow my father's faith-"

He held up his hand. "I would more than likely spark an open revolt among the n.o.bles and priests already uneasy with the ill-omened start to my reign. They've known of my wizardry for some time. Even those who despise me for it can do nothing since I routed the Havalqa army and broke their sea blockade with my powers.

"But if I said I am also a follower of this new religion they see as little more than a pa.s.sing fancy to amuse and distract commoners-and I mean no insult by that, but it is what many of the n.o.bles believe-they would think me mad. My rule is tenuous and tumultuous enough as it is, Elaysen. I cannot jeopardize it further."

"I do understand, Your Majesty. The n.o.bles would not approve. But you would have the support of the commoners, who already adore you for driving off the Havalqa. Do you think the n.o.bles would dare to move against you?"

"Perhaps not openly, but there are many things they could do to thwart my will and make my rule more difficult than it already is."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Elaysen herself complicated his life in innumerable ways. He had feelings for her, strong ones, and he knew she had them for him. But they both knew that his abrupt ascension to the throne destroyed any chance they had of being together. There had never been much of a chance to begin with; Gerin's father certainly would have never sanctioned it. But before King Abran's death, and his own life was cemented into such an inflexible role, there had been at least a glimmer of hope.

That hope was now gone. He needed to solidify his position with the n.o.bility any way he could, and that meant a marriage to the daughter of a strategically helpful house. Therain had already married Laysa Oldann, an arrangement their father had been working on before his death, and which Gerin was quick to finalize soon after his own coronation.

Which posed the question of when he would be married, and to whom. He did not yet know; all he knew for certain is that it would not be Elaysen.

"Aidrel Entraly has been cast out from my father's Inner Circle," she announced. "He believes my father is weak and has lost his way, and that we should convert followers forcefully rather than persuading them of the rightness of our ways."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know your father feared the day when his religion would splinter. It seems it's come even sooner than he thought."

"It was my father's hope that if you declared you are a follower of dalar-aelom, it would do much to defuse Aidrel's influence with the people. His violent teachings have unfortunately taken hold with many-he already has a substantial following of his own, as well as warriors he calls Helion Spears."

"Why doesn't your father denounce him as a heretic?"

"He has already done so, and excommunicated him from the practice of dalar-aelom. But Aidrel's bodyguards keep him well protected, and my father fears if he were to execute him for his heresies, he would make a martyr of him, a symbol for his misguided followers to rally around. He would prefer to discredit Aidrel and lure his followers back to the fold. My father had hoped you would help with this."

"I'm sorry, Elaysen, but I cannot. At least not in the way you mean. If Aidrel or his followers break any of the kingdom's laws, the repercussions will be swift and severe. That I can promise you. But no more."

She nodded, a look of deep sadness on her face. She stood, but would not look at him. "I will not trouble you further, Your Majesty. Should you decide to resume your teachings, you know where to find me."

"Elaysen, please. Regardless of what you believe, I am still a follower of dalar-aelom. I have long disliked the idea of being a tool of a G.o.d, but I am certain enough of the rise of the Adversary that I will do what I must to fight him. My ways may not please you or your father, but for now it is all I can do."

2.

Vethiq aril Tolsadri, the Voice of the Exalted, surveyed the city of Turen with growing impatience. It was a feeling he had experienced far too often over the past several months. Plans gone horribly wrong, his own death at the hands of the accursed Gerin Atreyano, his stature dangerously reduced in the eyes of those who either despised him or longed for his position as the Exalted's Voice, the opening of the Path of Ashes delayed three times so far-though if Bariq was merciful, that would be ending today. There seemed no end to the calamities occurring upon this continent.

The Harridan holds sway here, he thought, his hands gripping the stone rails with such force his fingers ached. She must. She thwarts the will of the other Powers and laughs at the chaos she creates.

But in the end we will prevail. We always do. It is only a matter of time.

Still, this particular campaign was proving exceptionally trying, all the more frustrating for him because of its importance to the Havalqa. Indeed, their very survival depended on it. They needed the Words of Making to fight the coming Great Enemy-of this the Dreamers were certain. Their visions of possible futures all contained that common thread. Tolsadri had imprisoned the man that the Dreamers said held the Words of Making, or was the key to finding them: Gerin Atreyano, a troublesome prince with extraordinary powers of his own. His escape and subsequent destruction of the Havalqa naval blockade, as well as the routing of the army marching to take the capital city of his kingdom, were grievous blows from which they had not yet fully recovered.

But they would soon. When the Path of Ashes was finally opened, they would overrun these lands with their armies until every man, woman, and child had been converted. He hungered for that day with an almost physical desire.

Far below him a portion of the Havalqa fleet choked the calm waters of the partially walled harbor, a forest of masts draped with canvas sails and slack rigging that dangled from the spars like bits of moss. He watched men move along the waterfront like ants. Some strolled aimlessly. Others loaded and unloaded cargo, while prisoners disembarked from captured ships under the watchful gaze of armed guards. Insignificant men with insignificant lives, worshipping their false and filthy G.o.ds until they accepted the light of the Powers.

And this city! It was filled with shrines and temples to all manner of infidel deities. He'd learned that Turen was a holy city in this kingdom of Threndellen, a pilgrimage site visited by tens of thousands of ignorant peasants who beseeched their G.o.ds to bring them fortune and good luck. Fools, all of them. G.o.ds who did not exist could bring them nothing. They lived in darkness but somehow believed it was day.

He turned away from the balcony, filled with impatience. Where was that infernal Enbrahel? He should have arrived by now with an update on their progress. They needed to open the Path of Ashes. The delays had been maddening, all the more so because he could do nothing about them. It was all in the hands of the Dreamer.

After they'd sailed from Kalmanyikul, the Dreamers in the Pahjuleh Palace had begun fashioning an arch of their own, an end point to the Path, to be ready if the Dreamer who accompanied the fleet determined there was a need to open the way between worlds. Such power was dangerous, to be used only if circ.u.mstances warranted it. That was why the Dreamers had kept knowledge of the Path from all except the Exalted herself. They did not want the commanders of the fleet to feel complacent, that a connection to the homeland could be easily established should they need it.

But the sheer size of this continent, coupled with the displays of power they had witnessed from Gerin Atreyano and his companion wizard, demonstrated quite clearly the need for even more resources than they had brought with them. The Dreamer decided the Path should indeed be opened.

His patience at an end, Tolsadri had decided to go in search of the wretched Enbrahel when there was an urgent pounding on the door. "Enter!" he called out.

Enbrahel's pudgy frame burst into the room. His red, puffing face matched the scarlet panels on his flowing silk robes. He was half a head shorter than Tolsadri, his hair thinning at the crown, as if trying to escape down toward his ears.

"Honored Voice, the Dreamer commands your presence. It says the arch is ready to be opened onto the Path."

"At last," Tolsadri muttered. "I thought this day would never come."

He swept past Enbrahel, out of the room, and down the wide stone stairs that waited at the end of the hall.

The Magister's Palace where he'd set up his residence rose from the center of a wide, flat hill that fell toward the sea in a series of staggered, walled terraces. The hill itself was broad but not exceptionally tall; its slope, however, was quite long, and was truncated near its western edge by a deep river rushing through a gorge.

Tolsadri left the palace and crossed the plaza, whose sides were bordered by ma.s.sive temples. Enbrahel kept close to his side, remaining mercifully-and uncharacteristically-silent while Tolsadri pondered his words to the Exalted should they finally succeed in reaching the Path.

The arch had been placed within an empty warehouse just outside the walls enclosing the Magister's Palace and temples. Prior to its construction a great deal of discussion took place among the Havalqa leaders and the Dreamer about where to locate it. The purpose of the arch, after all, was to effect the transfer of armies from Aleith'aqtar to conquer these heathen lands. Some of the military commanders argued for placing the arch outside the city in a fortified position that would allow for the quick bivouacking and subsequent deployment of the arriving troops. Others, including Tolsadri, wanted a more secure location within the confines of the city.

He, of course, had won the day. He disliked the idea of having to journey so far to reach the arch each time he needed to travel the Path of Ashes, though he did not state this reason aloud. Let the soldiers walk from the arch to their staging ground outside the city, he thought. He would not be inconvenienced more than necessary.

The warehouse was closely guarded by both Herolen soldiers and Sai'fen-the latter a sure sign that the Dreamer was present within. Tolsadri straightened his shoulders a bit and did not even glance at the hated Sai'fen as he pa.s.sed them and entered the warehouse.

He crossed two more cordons of soldiers before reaching the section where the arch was located. The Dreamer was safely ensconced within its wheeled carriage. Several Drufar stood close. Tolsadri hated the sight of them, Loremasters who had turned their backs to Bariq to become servants. It did not matter that they served a being as powerful as a Dreamer. The ridiculous hurils encasing their heads were a sign of emasculation to the Voice, a willingly worn mark of the depths to which they had fallen. He did not understand what drove men of power to volunteer to serve another, and above all else, Tolsadri hated what he did not understand.

He bowed before the Dreamer's carriage. Unlike their carriages in Aleith'aqtar, this one contained a small window covered with heavy fabric so the Dreamer could speak to others. "I have come, Great Dreamer. Is what I have heard true? Are we ready at last to open the way to the Path?"

"Yes, Voice of the Exalted." The deep voice rumbled from the carriage. "You need no longer attempt to hide your impatience and displeasure. The time has come."

Tolsadri clenched his jaw at the Dreamer's rebuke. Since Gerin Atreyano's escape, the Dreamer had made its displeasure with him known in ways both subtle and overt. What galled him most was that there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Dreamers were above the games of political intrigue that he so dearly loved to play. He could not engage it or move against it in any way. They were as inviolate as the Exalted herself.

"I am only impatient to return to Aleith'aqtar and beseech the Exalted for the troops we need to carry out our mission, Great Dreamer." The words wanted to stick in his throat, but he managed to force them out and sound appropriately obsequious.

"The opening of the way to the Path has been fraught with peril," said the Dreamer. "It has proven to be even more difficult than I thought, but at last my brethren in Aleith'aqtar and I have succeeded in joining our arches. We need only open them now, a trifling compared to what came before."

Tolsadri's breath caught for a moment. It was finally about to happen. For a short time, at least, he would leave these accursed lands and return to the home of his fathers.

He had heard rumors of the Path but never believed it anything other than a fanciful story until the Dreamer told him otherwise. He had been shocked at the idea of a doorway that pierced the fabric of reality, leading to another world where distances were far different than they were here. A walk of a few hundred yards there would cover hundreds or thousands of miles in this world. He still did not fully comprehend it.

"Will you need our a.s.sistance?" asked Tolsadri.

"No. My powers alone can open the arch."

Tolsadri was not certain he believed that. He thought it more likely the Dreamer did not want to share its secrets with him and his fellow Loremasters. He, certainly, would never share such a power were it his to command.

He walked around the arch, looked closely at the ma.s.sive frame. The Dreamer had dictated a detailed design for it, which their metalsmiths had then set about making. The Loremasters, at the Dreamer's direction, had imbued the metals with various types of power; the Dreamer itself had also poured much of its own strange but potent energies into it.

Energies it brought with it from another world, Tolsadri thought. When interrogating Gerin Atreyano, they learned that the Dreamers had fled to this world after their own was destroyed in a catastrophe of some kind. The Dreamer refused to describe what had reduced its homeworld to a "bone-yard of ash and dust," despite several attempts by Tolsadri to learn more. Tolsadri feared the Great Enemy had been the cause of the destruction, which made him more anxious than ever to acquire the means to conquer these lands and find the Words of Making.

The arch was wide enough for at least ten well-armored men to walk through side by side. Its frame was inscribed with arcane symbols in gold and silver. Tolsadri did not recognize any of them. When he asked the Dreamer about them, he was told only that they were designed to pierce the barrier that separated one world from another. He was given no other details, and the Dreamer's tone made it plain that none would be forthcoming.

"Great Dreamer, how will you know if the arch on the other side has been opened?" asked Enbrahel.

"It is already open, and has been for some time. Even from this distance I can sense such power." The Dreamer sighed. "Step away from the arch and prepare yourselves. You will find the power I must use disturbing."

Tolsadri moved to stand with Enbrahel, who kept his wide-eyed gaze locked onto the arch.

The Dreamer exhaled its power. This was far longer-and far stronger-than any previous example of it that Tolsadri had experienced.

Reality within the warehouse trembled in its usual nausea-inducing manner whenever a Dreamer invoked its power. But this time, instead of ending in moments, it continued, growing, deepening. The world around Tolsadri seemed to flex and twist. He could feel the world thinning like rotted silk. Gripped with a sudden sense of vertigo, he feared the stone floor beneath his feet would vanish like a popped soap bubble and plunge him into a void from which there was no return.

Beside him, Enbrahel clutched his hands to his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace of pain. Everyone in the warehouse, even the Sai'fen and Drufar, were affected. Some had fallen to their knees. To Tolsadri's left a Herolen vomited violently.

The s.p.a.ce within the arch grew dark. Within moments the area had become solid black. It reflected nothing, Tolsadri noticed through his distress. It looked like the mouth to a cave, or a pit into which no light could reach.

The Dreamer's sonorous exhalation continued. Tolsadri marveled that reality could withstand such manipulation without shattering.

One final sound came from the Dreamer, so low in tone that the Voice felt more than heard it. The arcane symbols etched onto the arch glowed with a dim yellow light.

The note ended. As it faded, so did the absolute blackness within the arch and the light of the symbols.

When the blackness was completely gone, Tolsadri could see the warehouse through the arch once more. There was no sign of Aleith'aqtar, or that anything had changed.

"I beseech you, Honored Voice, to never let me feel something like that again," muttered Enbrahel, who was still bent over, his hands on his stomach as he took deep breaths.

Tolsadri stared at the empty arch with a growing sense of trepidation. "What happened?" he said to the Dreamer. "Is it open?"

"The door is opened, Voice," said the Dreamer. Tolsadri could hear no sound of fatigue in its voice despite the enormity of the energy it had just used. He'd felt some of it flowing past him into the arch. More power than a dozen Loremasters could summon.

"But I see nothing, Great Dreamer."

"Your eyes cannot ken the nature of this opening, but I a.s.sure you it is there. The arch now exists in two worlds at once. You have but to step through it and you will be on the Path of Ashes. From there it is a short distance to the arch leading to Aleith'aqtar."

There was a hint of a challenge in the Dreamer's words. If he hesitated, Tolsadri would lose face before all those gathered here.

"I will step through first, Honored Voice," said Enbrahel. "To ensure the way is safe."

"You will do no such thing," snapped Tolsadri. "Remain here, Enbrahel. I will not need you in the Pahjuleh Palace."

The younger man was clearly disappointed, but knew better than to argue. "I hear and obey you, Honored Voice."

Without breaking stride, Tolsadri walked through the arch- And found himself in a barren, twilight landscape. He looked behind him and saw the arch, though the view through it was not of the warehouse in Turen but a line of distant mountains beneath a low ceiling of heavy gray clouds.

He began to cough. His eyes filled with tears. The cool air was dry and filled with dust carried on a swirling wind. Through his watery gaze he could see dirt devils twisting across the dry land.

He wiped his eyes. There were no trees here, no water that he could see. No animals, no birds in the air. The ground was dead, but it was no desert-this was not a place of sand or hard-packed earth. Beneath his feet was a sooty mixture of dust and ash several inches deep, as if the land as far as he could see had been burned in a great fire. Path of Ashes indeed, he thought.

Then, off to his left, he saw what he was looking for: another arch, perhaps a thousand strides distant.

Behind him a number of Sai'fen stepped through, their weapons ready. They spread out in a protective formation, scanning the dead world for any sign of a threat. The Drufar came next, followed by the Dreamer's enormous wheeled carriage. Tolsadri did not deign to wait. It challenged me to go first, and so first I shall be.

He reached the second arch and strode through without pausing.

Sunlight erupted in his vision. He raised his hands and squinted against the brightness. The hot, humid air was a shock after the cool winds that blew upon the Path of Ashes, but he did not mind. He found them welcoming. I am home, he thought. He felt at peace for the first time in a very long while.

The arch in Aleith'aqtar had been constructed in a training field on the Herolen encampment of Rujha situated several miles beyond the walls of mighty Kalmanyikul. While Tolsadri waited for a sedan chair to be brought for him, the Dreamer and his coterie of protectors and servants appeared.

Tolsadri was fascinated by the sight of their arrival. He opened his senses and watched closely as their emerging bodies broke the plane of the second arch. There was no sound, no light, no discharge of power of any kind that he could detect. They seemed to be stepping through a curtain, as if the image seen through the arch was a mere illusion. He marveled once again that in a few minutes he had covered a distance it had taken the Havalqa fleet many months to traverse.

He paused before settling into his sedan chair to drink in the view of Kalmanyikul, the greatest city that had ever existed. Its mammoth limestone walls projected an air of invincibility to all who saw them. In all the long years of its existence it had never been besieged, either by land or sea.

It stood upon a wide headland that jutted like a balled fist into the Strait of Xormae, which separated the Sea of Henisia from the Mujaarai Sea. The walls enclosed eleven hills, one for each of the ten Powers, the last for Holvareh the All Father. The Pahjuleh Palace was built upon Holvareh's Mount, the highest of the hills. Its spires, which he could just make out in the hazy distance, grasped toward the heavens, a physical manifestation of the lofty and holy purpose entrusted to the Exalted and her people.

Rujha sprawled across a gra.s.sy plain to the southwest of the city, beyond the wide currents of the Vareh River. The military encampment was a small city unto itself. Tolsadri did not know-and did not care-about many details of the Herolen, but he was vaguely aware that Rujha contained several fighting schools, each devoted to different combat techniques. These schools were adjuncts to the Cataar itself, housed within Kalmanyikul upon the Hill of Herol, where the best of the best were taught the art of war.

He stretched out on the chair, allowing the gauzy curtains to fall closed. Within a few minutes he had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the heat and rhythmic swaying of the chair.

He awoke in the Grand Courtyard of the Pahjuleh Palace. Staggered levels of colonnades rose above him for hundreds of feet. The immense Fountain of Lepri splashed into its marble pool behind his chair, surrounded by a wide band of gra.s.s and ring of olive trees.

Loremaster Jurje Dremjou awaited him, his skeletal, silk-encased frame lurking in the shadows. Dremjou held the t.i.tle of Wahtar, leader of the Jade Temple, where the followers of Bariq the Wise were trained to become Adepts and Loremasters. He was second in authority only to Tolsadri himself, and in some respects exercised more day-to-day power since Tolsadri's role as Voice of the Exalted often kept him far from the halls of the temple where such games were played.

Tolsadri would ordinarily have despised anyone with so much authority, but he did not despise Dremjou. The Wahtar was his creature through and through, and had been for many years. Tolsadri had played a key role in helping him succeed Tuzad Lekreim as First Circinate of the Adepts, and continued to a.s.sist Dremjou as often as he could, eliminating rivals and discreetly encouraging those in positions to help the young Adept, all the while making sure that Dremjou knew who was responsible for his somewhat startling rise through the temple.

"Welcome home, Honored Voice," said Dremjou with a slight incline of his head. He spoke, as he always did, in a soft, raspy voice. Tolsadri sometimes imagined that the Wahtar's thin chest could not draw enough air into his lungs to allow him to speak any louder. "We are to meet with the Exalted in two hours. I have acquired a room where you may prepare and gather your thoughts."

"I'm famished, Jurje. See that food and drink are brought as well."

"Food is being set out for us as we speak. Come, I will take you." They set off for the doors leading into the palace proper. "You must tell me what transpired in these lands across the sea. Something extraordinary must have occurred for the Dreamers to have opened this Path of Ashes. And you must tell me what the Path itself is like. An extraordinary thing. I was not aware such power existed in the world."

Behind them the Dreamer's carriage moved toward the well-guarded wing of the palace reserved for its kind. Tolsadri wondered if the Dreamer would speak to the Exalted before he did. Would it spread word of his failures into the Great Court? The thought set his teeth on edge. The details of his humiliation would be known soon enough, one way or another. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You knew of my coming?" he asked.

"I was summoned here a short time ago," said Dremjou. "The Dreamers sensed the opening of the arch across the sea and knew someone would be arriving soon. They a.s.sumed the Dreamer, you, and the Sword of the Exalted would journey along the Path, and so I was called to meet you and told of the means of your coming."