A/N: I needed quick character names so I hope a couple of fans don't mind appearing in my story.

Disclaimer: Most of this chapter belongs to Tamora Pierce -- even more than usual. I had to do that to maintain cannon integrity.

Chapter 9 - Message from the Gods

A moment after Numair returned to his seat, drums began to hammer, both on the boat and in the distance. Ozorne rose and walked to the bow, his guests following him. Moving under the power supplied by the master wizards, they had reached the imperial harbor at Thak's Gate in little more than an hour. This trip normally took three hours in the best of conditions. In the distance, Numair could see a lighthouse. Its beam illuminated a fleet of ships so large that it seemed to go on forever. In all his experience of battles, Numair had never seen a navy so large.

A horn call sounded from the harbormaster's tower on the breakwater. Sparks of magical Gifts flared from a hundred sources just beyond the lock. Fiery vines sprang from those sources to climb masts and twine around yardarms. More and more such tendrils erupted, each from a single ship, docked or anchored in the commercial harbor. Numair felt his stomach turn over and looked to find Daine in the throng of people. She and Kaddar had moved closer to the railing and were a mere ten feet away. He could have insisted she stay back in Corus. But he hadn't. This show of strength had a purpose and she was trapped in the front lines. He edged toward Daine and noticed as Varice followed.

Another horn call; a shout went up from the assembled fleets. The vines grew brighter, larger, until they burned white hot. Now the entire harbor was visible as colored lights reflected off of the smooth reflective surfaces of shield rims, armor and spear points. They were looking at war galleys with two and three banks of oars, fully manned. The horror of what these ships could do settled into his mind like lead. It seemed hopeless; insurmountable.

The whistle on the emperor's barge trilled again. Master Chioke', Master Templan, Master Silveni, and Master Azulono, the most powerful at the imperial university, stepped up to join the redrobed mages. They lifted their arms to point vertically, sending magical fire into the cloudless sky. The mages who had brought them downriver leaned over the rails, allowing their power to fall into the water.

Timbers creaked; wooden joints popped. Fire ran from one red-robe's hand to the next, until the hull lay fully illuminated. The power quartet then cried a single word, one Numair recognized as a spell to magnify magic. Streams of light from their hands broadened. Slowly the boat levitated, timbers groaning.

The crowd was the embodiment of silence. They seemed to be holding their breath en-masse for fear the smallest sound would distract the mages' focus. Enraged at the flaunting of such power, Numair thought silently that it was too bad he couldn't just blast the lot of them while they were too weakened to put up a good fight. It might save a lot of lives in the long run, but would definitely cost his own and the lives of people close to his heart on board.

The boat continued to rise. Sweat gleamed on the faces of the mages who controlled its motion. Clearly the emperor intended them to be lifted to a flying altitude. But to fly this ship for any length of time would drain the mages here and might end in catastrophe. Numair nervously began to run through the numerous spells he knew to pull them out of this mess. If he had to help he would need Alanna and Harailt. He searched the crowd for both,only to note thatAlanna was looking directly at him. He smiled, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. She moved closer but didn't say a word. It wasn't really necessary. Harailt was fairly close already.

At last the whistle shrieked again. The rising boat stopped, nearly eighty feet about the imperial harbor. The lighthouse beacon went out. From the harbormaster's tower came another, a higher timbre, one that was picked up by horns in the ships below. New fires sparked past the lighthouse tower. Like those in the harbor, these new flames became vines growing up and along some dark trellis. They flared, magic piercing the night to reveal hundreds of vessels lying at anchor past the harbor.

A metallic roar sounded. Torches were set to globes that burst into flame. They were balls of liquid fire, lit as they rested in the slings of catapults aboard the infamous Carthaki war barges. There were approximately twenty outside the harbor, forming solid ranks between the breakwater and the naval vessels farther out.

A loud whisper said, "Is he mad?" It was Kaddar, livid with anxiety. "This isn't just the northern fleet – he's brought the western one up as well! Did he do it to – to brag –"

Numair saw Varice rushing toward the prince to cut him off. She gripped his arm and ordered, "Shut up. What's the matter with you? Do you want to disappear like his last heir?"

"But—" the boy started to argue. Numair's mind reeled. He had known that Ozorne had an older nephew who had once been the heir. The "official" story was that he had left to marry a young woman he fell for in the Yamani Islands, giving up his right to the throne for love. Perhaps Ozorne had simply eliminated him.

Numair watched as Daine elbowed Kaddar and snapped "She's right – shut up! Kitten then nipped his leg in warning. "If I tell her, she'll bite," Daine said. "You haven't been bit till a dragon does it."

Numair was starting to feel respect for the boy. He could understand the friendship Daine had built with the young man. Kaddar's hands clenched into fists, but he held his tongue. The silence was filled with nervous tension. Numair glanced around to memorize where everyone he cared about was. He knew a spell to gather and pull them all to safety but it would drain him. He reached for his black opal pendant just in case. The emperor's boat hung in the air for a few more moments, then descended slowly. He didn't breath freely again until they were safely in the water.

The red-robed mages who had brought them down river were replaced by four new, fresh masters. They clapped in unison and were bowing their heads when a ringing sound echoed through the air. It was followed by three more in a rhythm like the trotting of a horse.

The air around the harbormaster's tower was glowing. Numair could tell the mages were not expecting this. Like himself, they were looking around for the cause. The clanging drew nearer. Around the tower's side and down the shortest breakwater, encapsuled in an aura of light, appeared a golden rider on a golden horse. Numair recognized it immediately as the statue of Zernou, the first emperor. The statue stood in Market Square in Carthak City near the temple of Mithros. Numair and Ozorne had played on it in their youth and were severely reprimanded by a priest.

As curiosity overtook him, Numair moved closer to the sight. He said a quiet prayer to Mithros to not visit his wrath on the innocent. When horse and rider reached the loch between the imperial boat and the arbor, it stopped. The horse, reared, pawing the air with his forelegs. Numair had moved so close he could feel the wind pushed by the massive hooves. The rider cried out the Old Thak word for "woe" two times. Then in the same language he said, "Woe to the empire – we are forsaken. The gods are angry!"

Numair looked back to Daine, wishing he could magically send her back to Jon and Thayat. He imagined her reaction and smiled. She would tell him something to the effect of, "I can take care of my own self. Stop behaving like Cloud!"

He felt his rose quartz start to buzz and immediately discontinued the spell. Ozorne – the real one – had walked toward the railing from below deck. So mesmerized was he by the site they had all just seen, that he dropped his magic and shimmered into view, leaving his similacrum in full view, though most of the crowd was too stunned to notice. He turned to glare at Numair with an intensified hatred.