Free Blood Of Kings: The Shadow Mage by Paul Freeman Page B

not mean the Nortlanders will follow him. They will only bend the knee to a strong ruler. The gold is to give him that position of strength.”
    “And to eliminate his enemies?”
    “Indeed.” Lorian drank again before lying back into his cushions, his demeanour more relaxed now that the Nortman arena fighter was gone.
    “So the hearts of the Nortlanders can be swayed so easily that a show of strength… or weakness can determine who they choose to rule them? Interesting, don’t you think?”
    “What more would you expect from a race of barbarians.” Lorian glanced nervously at the door, seeking any sign of the giant Nortman; There was none.
    “And Rosinnio is in the middle of all this. What is her role to be in this game of kings? The emperor has played his pieces well, but why? Why such an interest in the north? The Pirate Isles are so far removed from here that most of the empire’s citizens either don’t believe it exists, or that it is a mystical land shrouded in mist and populated with ogres and giants.”
    Lorian sighed. “The emperor had a dream, many, many moons ago. He told no one but his most trusted mages and advisors. He told them his dream was so strong and powerful that it could only be a message from the gods, and it was they who should interpret it.”
    “Dreams can be powerful,” Aknell agreed, “and one would imagine, the emperor being so closely related to the gods themselves that they would communicate through him.”
    “Just so. He dreamt he was a small boy scampering up a rocky peak, on the scent of the great eagles and their nesting place. He wanted to steal their eggs and raise the chicks himself. Of course, the higher he got, the stronger the wind and the more nervous he became, especially when the powerful birds of prey, with their vicious talons and beaks saw him stealing into their nests and gathering the eggs. They attacked him until he was bloody and raw and chased him from the mountain.
    “When he reached the ground his whole body was covered in deep wounds. His clothes were torn and hung from him in strips. On the way down, as he fended off the attacking birds, he had dropped all of the eggs, save for one. A dark, hard egg like none other he had ever seen. He could hear the eagles high overhead laughing at him. All that endeavour and all he had left was one malformed egg. His efforts wasted. He took the egg home, deciding it would at least make a decent supper, but when he hit it off the side of the pan he could not crack it open. So, he called out for a chisel and a hammer to go with it. As hard as he tried to smash the hammer off the chisel head, the egg would not break. He flung it against the wall in frustration. Still, it would not break. He bashed it directly with the hammer, over and over, but still he could not open the dark, ugly egg. He gave up and flung it with all his might into the fire.” Lorian paused to take a drink. He grunted in satisfaction, smacking his lips as he sat back into his couch and nest of cushions.
    “So what happened to the egg?” Aknell asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Nothing?”
    “The emperor woke the next morning feeling ill-rested and frustrated. He spent the next day unable to accomplish anything as the dream played on his thoughts. That night he dreamt the same dream, with the same outcome. When morning came he resolved to climb the mountain, as he had recognised it as one he had often played on as a child, although never before had he tried to reach the summit to where the great eagles made their home. So he scaled the rocky peak, following the trail of the boy from his dream. The giant birds chased him from their lofty perch just as they had chased the boy in the dream.
    “On the third night he dreamt the dream again, only this time the egg began to crack as the flames burned brightly around it. Bit by bit, lines appeared in the hard shell until a scaly head emerged from the top of the egg. With a squawk it breathed fire at the boy who