“We were going to get the definition, set it up within a lexicon nearby, and twin it with the Michiel foundries,” she said. “Then Valeria could escape, and establish a foothold here in Tevanne.”
“One that you could then use,” said Crasedes, “to defy me.”
“Yes.”
“I see,” he said. He studied her for a moment. “Orso—is she telling the truth?”
Orso shut his eyes hard like he was trying to ignore a piercing sound in his ear. “Yes,” he whispered miserably.
“Let them go,” said Sancia. “If you do, you’ll have everything right where you want it, won’t you?” She glared at him. “After all, you wanted to bring her to the Mountain, didn’t you? To take the horrible tools Tribuno had built here, and use them to turn this whole damned place into a forge—to remake her, and force her to do as you want?”
He studied her for a moment. “Huh!” he said finally. “Impressive. I had not thought I’d been so…transparent. So—she’s nearby, then?”
“She is,” said Sancia. “And I can take you to her.”
“Orso…” said Crasedes quietly. “Can she really? Tell me the truth.”
Orso’s face twisted in self-hate. “Yes!”
“And if I don’t,” said Sancia, “you can smash my skull with a rock. That’s plenty of collateral, yeah?”
Crasedes watched her for a long, long while—or perhaps it just seemed long because of how terrified she was. Sancia could even feel her heart fluttering in her chest.
Then there was a snap. Sancia flinched, expecting a stone to come hurtling at her—but instead, the bonds holding Orso down suddenly dropped away, as did the ones binding Gregor’s hands.
Orso slid off the table, coughing and gasping.
“Orso, get up,” said Sancia sternly. “Get your ass up and get Gregor out of here.”
Orso fought to his feet, staggered over to Gregor, and helped him stand. “What did you say to him?” Orso demanded, turning to Crasedes.
“I would leave, if I were you,” said Crasedes, “before I decide your blood looks better outside of you than in.”
Orso glared at him, but then he and Gregor hobbled out of the atrium, and Sancia was left alone with him.
I hope to God this works, she thought.
“Well, then, Sancia,” said Crasedes merrily. “Lead the way.”
* * *
—
Sancia walked off into the passageways of the Mountain, Crasedes silently floating a few feet behind her. If it weren’t for the constant nausea in her stomach, she’d probably forget he was even there.
“Tell me, Sancia,” asked Crasedes as they wound up the atrium stairs. His deep voice echoed along the endless corridors. “What do you think of this place?”
“Huh? You mean the Mountain?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I find it to be a depressing, bleak place, personally. But I haven’t lived in its shadow for many years. I would like to know if you think of it differently.”
“I…don’t,” she said. “Why do you think it’s depressing? I thought it was just your kind of place.”
“Oh, no. I mean, it was built as a sort of temple to me.” He gazed out at the dark atrium. “Tribuno wished nothing more than to witness me, and hold court with me. He even emulated my methods—to an extent. What a waste. Not just of stone, but toil and suffering…”
“Seems strange to hear someone who just crushed a bunch of soldiers into a ball talk about suffering.”
“Mm, perhaps,” he said. “But there is suffering inflicted for the sake of enforcing your power, and then there is suffering inflicted for a higher cause.” He gestured out at the atrium, his black-wrapped fingers clicking curiously as they unfolded. “I am here to prevent this, Sancia. To prevent more Tribunos. To prevent any more kings, or emperors, or lords from walking this earth, and forcing their will upon others. That’s why I fought so hard to come back. That’s what I’m here to do.”
She almost tripped and fell on her face at these words. She stared over her shoulder at him, bewildered. “You’re what? You’re here to…to be some bizarre scrumming liberator?”
“Is that so odd?”
“I think it is damned strange to hear the person who created the biggest empire of all time saying he has a problem with empires, yeah.”
“You misunderstand my works,” he said. “I’ve been alive a very long time, Sancia. And if there’s one thing I have learned throughout all the history that I’ve seen, it’s that mankind is quite good at coming up with delightful little innovations…but all of them are eventually turned to cruelty, and oppression, and slavery. Even the simplest ones become weapons. Take beans, for example.”
“What? Beans?”
“Yes.” He seemed to be having a very grand time, explaining this to her. “The Masazari peoples, in the lands east of here, once bred an unusually hardy but nutritious strain of white bean that helped their small culture to flourish. Their children lived longer, they were able to work longer days, and they could devote more of their time to other pursuits. And do you know what they eventually chose to do with this small but mundane agricultural innovation?”
“I have no idea.”
“They filled sacks up with these beans,” said Crasedes, “and put the sacks on the backs of soldiers—and suddenly they had a very mobile infantry that did not have to stop long to eat, or forage, or cook. And with this, they were able to develop a small but rather savage little kingdom, and conquer their neighbors. All because of beans.”
They made a turn and continued up into the atrium, wandering on into the darkness, the gloom pierced only by the brittle light from the flickering scrived lanterns.
“I’ve seen it happen with shoes,” said Crasedes. “And iron. And ships. And horses, and saddles. The Tsogenese were quite good with those. They used their cavalry to found an empire that dwarfs the state of yours today. And they had fields and fields and fields of slaves…” He drifted off for a moment. “There is no innovation that will ever spring from the minds of men that will not eventually be used for slaughter and control. So when I made my empire, I thought, if we’re going to have kings, well…We might as well have them on my terms, and force them to conduct themselves decently—to innovate and build without the inevitable shift into savagery.”