Legacy of Kings Read Free Page B

was no way to ask; Magisters did not discuss such things with one another.
    He had always perceived their ignorance as a weakness. But perhaps it might open doors for them, where his own knowledge of the past had closed them.
    “Very well.” Colivar nodded stiffly. “When the time comes that all the Magisters have agreed to this course—when they come together to determine what manner of law they will establish—then I will come to that place, also.” A faint smile flickered across his lips. “And I will try my best not to kill them all.”
    The stranger bowed respectfully. “That is all we can ask.”
    And he turned away to leave. It was, in its own way, as powerful a statement of intent as a Magister could possibly offer. He had no way to know that Colivar would not strike him down from behind as soon as his back was turned. Yet he willingly took that chance. Was it optimism that motivated him, or foolishness? Or both?
    “Wait,” Colivar said.
    The stranger turned back to him.
    “You know my name, but you have not given me yours.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that the way you wish to begin this cooperative effort?”
    The cold blue eyes regarded him. There was power in a name, even one that was used in public circles. And there was much more power in receiving a name directly from its owner. Few Magisters would make such a gesture.
    Prove how much you care about this project, Colivar thought. Prove how far you are willing to go to bring it to fruition.
    “Ramirus,” the stranger said. “I am called Ramirus.”
    Ravens cawed in the distance as he once more turned to leave. This time Colivar did not stop him.

Beginning

Chapter 1
     
    T
    HE ATTACK began before dawn.
    Jezalya’s population was mostly asleep, trusting to its sentries to sound an alarm if trouble came calling. But no one really expected trouble. The wall surrounding the desert city was tall and strong, with centuries of witchery woven into its substance; only a fool would try to break through it. Least of all during the night, when even the fiercest of warriors laid his weapons aside, leaving sovereignty of the sand to lizards and demons.
    Their error.
    Outside the city Nasaan waited, studying the great wall through a spyglass. He had a small but loyal army at his command, made up of tribal warriors from the most powerful desert families. Perhaps they were not as well armored as the soldiers of Jezalya, but they were ten times as fierce, and they were bound to him by ties of blood as well as political fealty. His witches were kin to him as well, which meant that they would be willing to lay down their very lives to assure him victory. They were a whole different species from Jezalya’s witches, who provided the city’s prince with power in carefully measured doses in return for carefully measured coinage. Oh, those witches would help out with a few small tasks, and maybe even scry for trouble now and then, but only up to a point. As soon as they became convinced that Jezalya was a lost cause they would bolt like frightened rats, and not waste one precious moment of life-essence trying to save her.
    Or so Nasaan’s spies had assured him, after months of reconnaissance.
    A pale blue light began to spread along the eastern horizon, harbinger of dawn. Inside the city, Nasaan knew, people were just starting to stir. The grand market at the heart of Jezalya would open as soon as the sky was light, so the most ambitious vendors were already laying out their wares, lining up fresh vegetables and strips of newly slaughtered flesh in neat rows to entice buyers. Wagons were beginning to move up and down the narrow streets, transporting goods from one place to another in anticipation of a new day’s business. Merchants who had sheltered in Jezalya for the night were gathering their parties together, preparing to return to the road. And along the top of the great wall sentries watched the sky lighten, unutterably bored. Once more, a night had passed