Touana fixed Miro with a penetrating stare, interrupting him before he could speak. “Tell me, High Lord, how many enchanted swords are you exporting from Altura, for free? How many sets of armor?”
Miro sighed in exasperation. He had a sudden thought, and reaching into the bag lying at his feet that he’d brought with him, he pulled out a pyramid-shaped prism of quartz. He set it down on the table in front of Touana with a heavy clunk and then crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“What’s this?” Touana frowned as she looked at the device. She picked it up in her hands and inspected the matrices of runes. “Whatever it is, I can see it is not a complex device.”
“No,” Miro said. “It’s not as complex as the things your artificers make. It’s not a timepiece, or a seeker, or a child’s toy. It does require a fearful amount of essence to construct, however.”
“Go on.”
“It’s a single link in a chain. Our enchanters are making these devices—we call them reflectors—in numbers. Artificer Touana, what we have devised is a signaling system. We’re mounting the reflectors on top of towers, spaced at regular intervals, to connect every capital. That includes Stonewater, and we’re even linking up with the icy north. Each device does one thing, and it does it well. When a source reflector in a capital is activated, the prism lights up with that house’s color. It then sparks the next reflector, and so on in a chain, until everyone in the Empire knows that nation is under threat. The devices are made to be indestructible. You ask me if we’re giving up our resources for the greater good of the Empire and I say, yes, and here is the proof. When we’re finished, we’ll have a system that will enable reinforcements to go and help those in danger. The essence we’re using could be used to buy the orbs we need or build more enchanted weapons, but I believe this is more important.”
“It’s an intriguing idea, High Lord,” Touana said, “and I applaud your dedication. However I cannot change my position. We cannot give you what you need without payment.”
“Can you offer terms of credit?” Beorn asked.
“Coin only, I’m afraid.” Touana smiled and spread her hands.
Miro stood up out of his chair, knocking it back behind him. Touana didn’t even flinch when he leaned forward. “They’re coming for Altura. And if we fall, so will you. Be it on your head.”
“I can only advise you to state your case at the Chorum, High Lord. The emperor’s new agreement allocates essence evenly among the nine houses. Perhaps you can have the agreement changed in your favor.”
Miro shook his head, at a loss for words. Beorn scooped up the reflector and waved to the bladesingers, hurrying to follow the high lord as he stormed out of the Louan market house.
Miro soon stood back in the open air, but his shadowed eyes saw something altogether different from the busy streets of Seranthia.
“That went well,” Beorn said.
Miro turned and looked at Beorn. “I was there,” he whispered. “I saw what will happen to Altura.”
“I don’t think we can count on getting any more Louan weapons anytime soon.”
Miro growled, “She talks about fairness. Why should Petrya get the same essence as Altura when it’s we who will bear the brunt of Sentar’s invasion? What’s fair about that?”
“We have five days until the Chorum,” Beorn said.
Miro nodded. “We need to prepare.”
2
“All of our hopes depend on these devices,” Ella said.
Ada, the eldest daughter of Dain Barden of the Akari, turned the pyramid-shaped prism in her hands. Ada frowned as she examined the device, seeing the holes on each corner of its base, where it could be mounted, and noting the myriad of tiny symbols covering each of the three other faces.
Perhaps five years older than Ella, Ada’s hair was even paler than Ella’s, near white to Ella’s gold. She wore it in a thick braid she occasionally tossed when irritated. Ada now tugged on her braid, her expression thoughtful rather than fierce.
Ella had invited Ada to this meeting in the Alturan market house in Seranthia. She’d had conversations like this with lords and templars, Tingaran melders, and Torak builders. This was now Ella’s chance to convince the Akari about Altura’s strategy for dealing with the coming storm.
The device Ella called a reflector was made of quartz, and Ella had drawn the runes herself, using a lens to aid her vision. Ada passed it to the three other Akari seated around the broad table as Ella shivered; it was late winter in Seranthia, and the heating system in the cavernous market house struggled to fight the chill. For once the Akari didn’t look out of place in their heavy furs.
“We’re building them to connect all the capitals and we’re even connecting Stonewater. Our enchanters mount them on towers, and as long as the next reflector in the chain is in sight of the previous one, the light carries from one to the next.”