The Oracle's Answer

By Emily Holloway and Amanda Crowe

In the year and a half since Brannon regained the memories of the last Emperor, the world has spiraled into chaos. Civil war is all but certain in multiple Nation-States, and both he and Tallis are being worked to the bone, leaving Brannon no time to search for the Divine Right that will allow him to assume the throne. As if that weren't bad enough, the cases he and Tallis are being assigned seem hand-picked to prevent him from doing just that. The case assignments are done by the Oracle, one of the three most powerful Warders in the world. If he's been corrupted, there may be no way to stop him, and the Warders may be torn apart from the inside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359804771

Book preview

The Oracle's Answer

The Oracle’s Answer

By Emily Holloway and Amanda Crowe

Prologue

The Empress and the swordmaster had been working for quite some time before they realized that they were being watched. As usual, their practice session had grown quite intense. Despite the fact that swordplay wasn’t usually a feminine art, the Empress had become quite skilled at it. Therefore, the sparring match between the two required all their attention.

Finally, the Empress’ practice sword was knocked from her hands and landed on the stone tiles with a hard clack. She had to take a few moments to catch her breath, and then they heard the noise of someone clapping.

Superb, as always, the Emperor said from the stone bench where he had been watching.

The swordmaster turned and bowed low. The Emperor does me great honor, he said.

The Empress, meanwhile, smiled merrily at her husband. Don’t you have better things to be doing than spying on me?

Could there be a better pastime? the Emperor asked.

Are you sneaking out of Council meetings again, dearest?

The Emperor waved a dismissive hand. When I left, my sister was arguing them all in rings regarding taxation laws. I think I’ll let her handle it. She knows my mind on the subject and can speak it far more eloquently than I’ll ever be able to.

Did you need something from me, then? she asked. The Emperor had a tendency to rely on his wife whenever he was due to go to a formal occasion. She knew how to act and talk, and although the Emperor could put on a good show, he didn’t thrive on it the way she did.

The swordmaster bowed. I’ll take my leave, then – he began, and then saw the Emperor hold up a hand.

Actually, I need to speak with both of you, the Emperor said. He hesitated for a few moments. As you both know, I have not been Emperor very long. I’m still getting my feet underneath myself. It’s been difficult. My chief advisor has nearly been assassinated. And of course, I’m still without an heir. He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to discuss that topic any more than necessary. Long Jin Se has been expressing concern regarding my ability to defend myself, if it comes to that point.

The Empress looked at him in surprise. Long Jin Se has? But you can hardly pry that dragon from your side. Why would he be worried about that?

You’ll notice he isn’t with me right now, the Emperor pointed out.

True, the Empress said, realizing that. Where is he?

He’s sleeping. Even he needs to on occasion. Of course, I have my guards. But, well, Long Jin Se is a worrier, and I suppose I can understand that. I’m passable with a sword, but I’m not a master. Not like either of you.

So you’d like lessons? the swordmaster presumed, and then smiled. Your Majesty, I am honored that you would think of me, but surely there are a hundred more qualified teachers than –

Just because I would need to pay them a barrel of money per lesson doesn’t make them more qualified, the Emperor said dryly. Then he looked over at his wife. And it isn’t entirely about your skill. If I’m going to learn how to master the sword from someone, it will have to be someone I can trust completely. Someone that I can let my guard down around, take off my pendant and let my dragon relax and really learn. Otherwise, it won’t work. My wife trusts you, so I trust you, as well.

The swordmaster studied him for a long minute. If we do this, he said, I will expect one hundred percent from you, no less than I expect from her. No special treatment because of your birthright. If you let your guard down, you’ll get smacked. I take my art very seriously, and I won’t teach anyone who doesn’t take it just as seriously as I do.

And that, the Emperor said, is also why I would like you to be my teacher. I need someone who won’t go easy on me just because of who I am.

Oh, he won’t, the Empress said, chuckling. If anything, he’s been even harder on me since we got married.

The swordmaster turned his head and glanced at her. Like the Emperor, it is now even more important that you’re able to protect yourself, he said. There’s no knowing what will happen in any of our futures. But I would hate to see you hurt because there was a deficiency in my teaching.

Yes, yes, she said, smiling at him brilliantly. I’ve heard your lectures before.

Shall we begin, then? the swordmaster asked the Emperor.

Unfortunately, I can’t right now, the Emperor said. I told Long Jin Se that I would speak to you about this, but not that we would start lessons. If I get whacked one too many times and he wakes up to find me in pain, even if it’s because of lessons, I wouldn’t trust him to not bite heads off first and ask questions after the mess has been cleaned up.

The swordmaster laughed. All right. We’ll make concessions for the dragon. Tomorrow, then. I can be flexible with your schedule, since I’m sure yours is more crowded than mine.

Tomorrow, the Emperor said with a nod. An hour before midday? Audiences are almost always over by then.

That should be fine, Emperor.

The Emperor smiled and nodded, kissed his wife on the cheek, and hurried away. The Empress watched him go, a faint frown lingering on her face.

What is it? the swordmaster asked her.

She turned slightly. Oh, it’s just – he’s already under so much pressure. He’s really starting to learn how to rule. He’s complaining less about the Council members, which means they’re starting to listen to him. That’s good in a way, but he’s also spending twice as much time at audiences and Council sessions now, plus time in the library studying. In addition to all that, he worries about his sister and her safety. He worries about me, and about how difficult it’s been trying to produce an heir. He even worries about the dragon. He’s so strong, but he’s already got so many demands to attend to. I guess I’m just not thrilled with the concept of adding the mastery of the sword into that schedule.

The swordmaster sat down next to her, taking her hands into his own. With so many worries on his shoulders, it only makes sense that someone needs to worry about him, he said.

I know. And I do. And Long Jin Se! That dragon is a mother hen and no mistake.

The swordmaster let out a chuckle. Have faith, my dear. The Emperor is strong in body and in spirit, and so are you. And I’m here. I’ll help you both, however I can, even if it’s giving his ribs bruises so he’ll be able to protect himself when it really matters.

Thank you, she said, smiling at him. I know I can count on you.

* * *

Chapter One

The streets of Nuan Huo were quiet, which was unsurprising given the late hour. It was so late, in fact, that the hour was approaching early. Brannon glanced up at the sky, which was starting to lighten towards the east, and estimated that dawn was no more than an hour away.

For the young Warder, staying up until all hours of the night was not unusual, particularly in the last year and a half. It was his body’s natural rhythm to stay up late and then sleep until noon the next day. The reason for his weariness was due to how long he had been up without rest, rather than the actual hour.

In between cases, Brannon stayed in a small apartment in Nuan Huo, barely more than two rooms. The size and simplicity of the flat didn’t bother him. In fact, he found that he preferred it to something larger. He had been to Calessa’s parents’ house once, and found the opulence discomfiting.

The days between cases had been slim lately, however. As Brannon turned the knob to enter his apartment, it occurred to him that he had not been there in over three months. That thought was enough to make him groan as he wobbled inside, trying not to put weight on his left leg. He had taken an injury during his latest case. A stupid one, too. He had been too tired to see the knife coming. It had been tended to, but it still hurt to walk on the leg for any extended period of time, which was what he had just been doing.

Within moments, he realized that the apartment was not empty. It was a few seconds after he probably should have realized it. Normally, he would have noticed before he even put his hand on the knob. There was a lantern burning, and it would have showed underneath the door: a thin strip of light. He hadn’t noticed.

The smell of cooking food, however, was something that even his exhausted brain couldn’t ignore. He had a fleeting thought of how reminiscent it was to the way he had met Tallis before their fateful ‘vacation’ in Bai Miao a year and a half before.

Tallis? he called out eagerly, shutting the door behind himself and putting up wards with a wave of his hand. His mouth was watering, and not just from the smell of the food. He hadn’t seen Tallis in longer than he hadn’t seen his apartment – and even then it had only been about six hours together. Stolen time in between cases. They exchanged letters frequently, but it was no substitute.

’Fraid not, a familiar voice called over, and Brannon blinked back the weariness long enough to see who was actually in his kitchen. It was Petrus.

Oh, he said, trying not to let the disappointment color his voice too obviously. The last time he had seen Petrus had been in the rubble of Bai Miao after Tallis had transformed into the Imperial Dragon for the first time in a thousand years. He had known from Jaron that the former priest was trying to help them find a spell to locate the Divine Right, but he hadn’t expected to see him again. What are you doing here?

I found something for you. I’ve been waiting here almost a week.

Brannon rubbed his hands over his face. If you didn’t know when I was coming, why are you cooking?

Petrus blinked at him. It’s my breakfast, he said, gesturing to the pan.

Brannon glanced out at the lightening sky. Ugh, he said, concisely delivering his thoughts on those who could get up before dawn – and worse yet, would want food at such a hideous hour.

Well, that’s your opinion, Petrus said.

Brannon laughed. It was easy to forget himself around Petrus, easy to forget that Petrus wasn’t just a friend. He was loyal, but their relationship was a complicated one that he couldn’t allow to become simple. And it hurt that it wasn’t Tallis there to greet him. He missed Tallis more than could be put into words.

Sit, Petrus said, gesturing towards the chair. I’ll share the food. Then I’ll take a look at that leg you’re favoring.

It’s fine, Brannon said immediately, but didn’t hesitate to sit down.

Then it shouldn’t matter if I look at it, Petrus replied. Brannon made a face at him but didn’t say anything else. Speaking of Tallis, you have a message from him. It came yesterday.

’S odd, Brannon said. Wonder why he sent it here instead of directly to me.

Petrus shrugged, but gestured to where a scroll was curled up on the windowsill. Brannon’s frown deepened. Why had Tallis sent a regular message by way of a courier to his apartment, instead of an origami bird that would find him directly? He picked up the message, broke the seal, and unrolled it.

It was a brief note that read simply that he expected to be back in Kan Shou by a certain date, if Brannon wanted to meet him there. The date was two days away, and Brannon brightened, hoping he could meet Tallis before he got his next case. There was also a postscript that read, I’m sending this by courier because I’ve been using a lot of magic lately. Love always, Tallis.

So? Petrus prompted, as he rolled the scroll back up.

We’ll try to meet up in Kan Shou, Brannon said, not wanting to get into the personal contents of the letter.

Why did he send it by courier?

I guess he’s on a case where he’s been using a lot of magic. It’s hard for him now to not transform if he starts to expend a lot of energy, so he has to be careful.

Petrus nodded in sudden understanding. When he uses the draconic magic, of course it would be instinct to transform.

Right. But that’s not something we can let happen. He’s still adjusting to making it work. Brannon slid the scroll into an inner pocket of his vest, where it felt comfortable against his chest. He yawned a few times, and was starting to drift off to sleep when Petrus sat down at the table across from him. He set down a plate of food and a mug of tea for each of them.

Not drugged again, is it? Brannon asked. Petrus arched an eyebrow at him, but Brannon held his gaze and resolutely did not apologize for asking.

After a moment, Petrus looked away, in a gesture of acknowledgment. No. Feel free to check it if you like.

Thanks. I think I will. Brannon did a brief spell to determine that there were no harmful or unusual ingredients in the food, then began to eat. Petrus did so as well. Not that it matters, Brannon added with a snort, now that the moment of tension was past. I could fall asleep right now without any help from you.

Once I give you the spell, I’ll be on my way, Petrus said, knowing that Brannon wouldn’t want to sleep with him still there.

That’s fine, Brannon said, his tone neutral.

Petrus took a drink of his tea. You’ve been working very hard, I see.

Brannon nodded. It’s been difficult lately, he said. He didn’t want to acknowledge too much trouble, because the last thing he needed was the former priest deciding that he should stop being a Warder. We’ve been spread thin. I haven’t had a break between cases that was more than a day in I don’t know how long. And Tallis hasn’t either, so we’ve barely seen each other.

That must be hard for you, Petrus said.

More than you could possibly know, Brannon replied.

Not wanting to push too much on the subject of the thousand years that had separated the Emperor and his dragon, Petrus changed the subject. Why has it been so busy? Can you tell me?

Brannon tapped his fingers against the table. Specifically, why? Nobody’s really sure. A lot going on at once. Unrest, unease in many of the Nation-States. Forces moving. Power changing hands. Some people just say it’s a period of growth. Sienna and I talked about it a little, last time I saw her. She thinks it isn’t natural.

Then she’s probably right, Petrus said.

Yes. Brannon tapped one finger against the edge of his mug. She thinks that someone is stirring things up. Bringing things to a boil so when an Emperor arrives, he will be welcomed, rather than rejected. But it isn’t me – and I hope it isn’t you, he added, giving the other man a sharp look.

No, Petrus said. And it isn’t the priests, either. Even if they wanted to do such a thing, I doubt they have the power to do so anymore. The way Jaron and I left it was that they were going to make a push back out into the community. Spread the word that the Emperor was returning. Try to make a connection with the people. But that was all.

Which means it’s the other Emperor-in-waiting, Brannon said with a sigh. It is Emory’s style. He stays behind the curtain and pushes countries to the brink of war, then arrives to make things right. Plus it has the added bonus of keeping Tallis and I so busy with our duties as Warders that we don’t have time to look for the Divine Right. Not a bad strategy, on the whole.

Petrus shrugged. You have something that Emory will never have, he said. The Divine Right is yours. It’s a part of your soul.

Fat lot of good that’s done me, Brannon grumbled.

You’ll find it, Petrus said.

Brannon glanced at him over the rim of his mug. Your faith in me is astounding, Petrus.

I’ve always been a man of faith, Petrus said. His voice was solemn, but there was an amused spark in his eyes. Come on, finish eating. Let me see your war wound.

Brannon sighed and shoveled the last few mouthfuls in. Then he rolled up the leg of his pants and unwrapped the bandages so Petrus could see the gash in his thigh, less than an inch above his knee. It was clean and stitched closed. What happened? Petrus asked, laying one finger against it to see if it was warm.

Nothing. It was stupid. I just – wasn’t focused.

Seeing that further prodding on the subject would get him nowhere, Petrus said nothing for a long minute. The Pendant didn’t protect you?

I wasn’t wearing it, Brannon said. He saw Petrus’ raised eyebrows and growled at him. I left the Regalia in Bai Miao, with Edrich. Until I have the Divine Right, I can’t fully lay claim to it. And if I can’t lay claim, that means someone else can, particularly Emory, if he finds the Divine Right first. It’ll be safer in Bai Miao than if I was toting it with me everywhere I went.

Petrus considered this. It looked as though he wanted to make a comment about the safety of the Regalia versus the safety of the Emperor, but apparently thought better of the remark. Hurt much? he asked instead.

Some. If I’ve been walking or riding for too long.

Petrus made a noncommittal noise and began to look through one of his packs. It’s healing well, he said. Shouldn’t give you any long-term trouble. Whoever took care of it knew what they were doing. He pulled out a small packet of dried herbs. Use these for the pain. You can put them in your tea when the water is just short of boiling.

I don’t need painkillers, Brannon snapped.

Pain keeps you from focusing. It makes it more difficult for you to do your job. Take the herbs and don’t argue.

Brannon snatched the packet and tucked it away in his vest. The spell, he said.

Petrus nodded. I’m afraid it isn’t quite what we hoped for, he said, rewrapping Brannon’s wound. "No matter how much I