Aralim had missed this. Sitting on a cushion in the cool interior of the Iron Palace, inhaling the rich aroma of masterfully brewed teas, speaking with a man who had seen so much of the Path—there was nothing quite like it.
“I thought it would feel longer,” Tag’na said, pouring himself a square mug of the green tea. He turned the tray toward Aralim; it slid along the two-foot raised table gently. A dozen members of the Aura stood in the shadows nearby, waiting for whatever their master might request. That was the only thing that Aralim’s fond memories did not include. It had taken time to grow accustomed to the Eternal Emperor’s Aura, and it would take time again.
Aralim smiled at the Emperor’s comment. Everything is always a measure of time to him, he thought, then said, “It was only a year. It seemed fast even to me. I thought I’d get more done.”
“Yes, indeed. After all that walking, you only spent a month or so in Tal’lashar.”
Aralim finally decided on the local spiced tea.
The Emperor sipped his green tea and shifted so he lounged to one side of the stuffed pillow upon which he sat. It was strange seeing the heat of his drink make his eyes water and his nostrils redden—such an everyday human behaviour from a man who could not possibly be described as “everyday.” The Emperor lowered his cup. “I suppose I should ask what my Aura could not simply observe. Was it good for you to be back on the road again?”
“I think it did me good to be walking again,” Aralim said with a nod. “It helped me gain perspective on a lot of things. The Path included.” He sipped his tea, enjoying its warm—not hot—spicy flavour.
Tag’na smiled. “Tal’lashar was magnificent. Thank you for that,” he said. It was a strangely present comment, as though Tag’na had seen through Aralim’s eyes, not the Aura’s. “My perspective also continues to shift, because of you. Perhaps more slowly, though.”
“Your perspective is shifting? After so long?” Aralim raised his eyebrows.
The Emperor’s eyes twinkled mirthfully. “I make no claims to be the same person I was when I conquered Numa’nakres. The same body, yes, but who I am does change, when it seems necessary or desirable. I’ve known you only for two years, so it is too soon to say what will come of this.”
“As I said at our lunch, you are the core of Rema. It is only natural that you be swayed by Rema’s needs,” Aralim decided. “Although, when I left—you did seem convinced that you had seen too much to change.”
“Did I?” Tag’na asked. “Did I not offer you a secret in a most uncharacteristic way?” His humour was still there, though his smirk briefly hidden by the square stone cup.
“I suppose the shift had already begun then,” Aralim said with a slight laugh. He drank his spiced brew for a moment. For a while longer, they sat in silence. Even more than most, Aralim felt unrushed by the Emperor. An awkward minute in a normal conversation was an awkward hour in a conversation with Tag’na. Aralim decided now was as good a time as any. “There is one thing you should know that I did keep from the Aura due to… lack of context.”
“Ah, do tell,” Tag’na said, leaning forward. “Was it the letter you received in Maga or one of those at Crossroads?”
“In Maga, the first time,” Aralim responded. He set down his tea cup. “Upon my first departure from the eye, I received a note from Rel outlining that I should be careful of my trust in you as their surveillances have found many hallucinogenic drugs being delivered into your personal care. I didn’t want to leave you guessing at my reaction for an entire year, but their knowledge of this is significant.”
“I see.” Tag’na took a long sip of his tea and set his own cup down.
Aralim rotated his mug quietly, a slight nervous fidget. At last he picked up the cup, still waiting for the Emperor’s reply, and at last the Emperor replied.
“Thank you for bringing this to me,” Tag’na said. “What do you think of it?”
Aralim shrugged. The stone mug warmed his hands, but he replied instead of drinking. “I know not the means by which you preserve your youth, so I have no need to think of it. Even if these substances were recreational, Ovoe’s knife could not leave a scar on you—so I doubt drugs could have a long-lasting effect.”
“As insightful as ever,” Tag’na replied. He smirked and reclaimed his tea cup. “Though I suggest that you not try to extend your lifespan with hallucinogens.”
“That could be disastrous. I barely drink spirits,” Aralim chuckled.
“Good,” Tag’na said. “I would only ask that you keep this secret more closely guarded than those I have shared willingly with you.”
Aralim inclined his head. “Of course. There’s a reason I started burning letters in my lantern.”
The Eternal Emperor smiled quaintly. “More tea?” he asked. He gently lifted the matching stone kettle to pour himself more green tea. Steam rose over the rounded dish, following the deeply carved designs like a maze.
“Certainly,” Aralim replied. The spiced tea was served from a squat pot with a narrow neck and open spout. He reached for it but was surprised when the Emperor refilled his cup for him. He complimented: “I have new appreciation for your tea masters after being abroad.”
The Emperor grinned. “And my combat masters too, I’m sure.”
Aralim laughed. “A lot of things really.” They watched the steam rising over their table for a moment. Once the tea had cooled a little, Aralim took a sip and nearly burned his tongue. Hot stones kept the serving tray warm. “So, is there more to the answer you gave everyone about Aura at dinner? Was the one with me unique, or is that just my wishful thinking?”
Tag’na flashed his teeth again at Aralim’s conversion of the noun into a proper noun. His answer was still not perfectly straightforward: “There are different skill sets that exist within my Aura. Some are skilled fighters, others skilled with instrument, healing, or subterfuge. You might be surprised to learn that others are brilliant with words, so I almost feel as though I visited some of the places they have.”
“And you keep track of all of these skills?” Aralim asked. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women in the Aura. “That must take quite some effort.”
The Emperor waved one hand dismissively. “No, no. You met one of the Argots, I believe. They spend all their time organizing the Aura.”
“Hmm.” Aralim nodded. Her name was Cayaza, he remembered. The only Aura who had spoken, not counting Narr. The latter had only replied to Miresh, though, not Aralim. So, the Aura had a hierarchy, just like Rema’s Three Courts.
After a moment, the Emperor set down his square cup. “How long would you like to stay in Rema this time?” he asked. “There is lots going on, but I will keep you out of it if you prefer to act only as Ambassador.”
Aralim sipped his cup thoughtfully. It was vaguely exciting to be asked his preference by a man of Tag’na’s status. Perhaps the Emperor knew that, too. “Just as time away did me well, so will some time in Rema. I think we’ll know when it’s time to go again. For now, I would like to see what I can do for Rema.”
“Excellent,” the Emperor murmured. “I suggest you spend the next few weeks speaking to members of the First Court—ensure General Vanra is one of them. Once you are properly informed, we should discuss any insights you may have. And, of course, if you have any further questions, ask me. I will either answer or I will not.”
“Of course,” Aralim replied. He smiled at the Emperor’s last remark. “One last question before I get on my way,” he began, before taking a pause to sip his tea for the dramatic effect of it. “How was your birthday?”
The Eternal Emperor rolled his eyes and chuckled.