Read Online Empyrion II: The Siege of Dome by Stephen Lawhead - Free Book Online Page A

Dhogs; the ever-resourceful Tanais leader had actually joined forces with them. This was something Jamrog could never have foreseen.
    The Rumon entourage, purposefully a large one so Jamrog would have no cause to accuse Cejka of being unsympathetic, passed slowly through the streets and byways of the Hage, followed by other Rumon Hagemen making their own way to Saecaraz to see the funeral spectacle. A delegation of Rumon priests, chanting loudly and raising a din with their cymbals and horns, took up a position in front of the official party and led the way to the dockyard.
    The entire waterfront area was crammed with boats and people waiting to jam into boats. There was an air of festivity and high spirits among the populace. After all, it was a special day—no work in the Hages and free food for all in attendance at the funeral. It promised to be a tremendous spectacle, and no one wanted to be left out; all who could were making their way to Saecaraz.
    “There is the funeral boat,” said Covol, pointing out the red-draped decks and gangway of the large tridecker. Cejka led his entourage to the gangway and boarded the boat, which was to pull away from the dock as soon as the last official squeezed aboard.
    Cejka made his way to the topmost deck and took his place at the forward end, his guide on one hand and his Subdirector on the other. There arose a commotion from below, and when he asked what was taking place Cejka was told, “Some Hagemen have attempted to board, but they are not of the official party. There will be a slight delay while they are put off.”
    “Oh, let them come along,” replied Cejka impatiently. “If there is room, let them all aboard. It will only make our number appear larger, which cannot hurt. No delays! We must arrive at the scheduled time.”
    The Hagemen were allowed aboard, the gangway was pulled in, and the boat drew slowly away from the wharf, backing carefully through the small, congested harborage of Rumon, the scene ringing with voices of pilots and passengers as all made for the river beyond.
    Kyan's gray and turgid waters were choked with watercraft of every size and description. Anyone in charge of a vessel of any size was ferrying Hagemen to the funeral. There were tiny two-seat paddleboats, large triple-deckers, Hage pleasure barges, and a host of the solid, double-decked cargo boats, all crowded with people making their way to Saecaraz for the big day—and every last one flying a red funeral banner.
    The festival atmosphere was inescapable. A Supreme Director's funeral was a rare event in the first place, and Jamrog had appropriated huge sums to be spent in making Rohee's funeral the most lavish of any in living memory. Cejka distrusted this, though Jamrog's motive escaped him.
    “I would have thought Jamrog content with a private cremation,” Cejka whispered to Covol as he scanned the enormous flotilla stretching out both ways along the river. “Why, a man could walk across Kyan without getting his feet wet! Look at them out there. We'll be lucky if half the population of Empyrion isn't drowned today.”
    “Perhaps Jamrog seeks to gain more than the approval of the populace with this tactic,” replied Covol, a small man powerfully built and possessing a quick mind. He would one day make a good Director.
    “Say what you think, Covol,” directed Cejka. “There are none among us in Jamrog's keep.” It was true. Cejka had rigorously maintained the purity of his own ranks for years; he knew there were no traitors in his top echelon.
    “By making much of Rohee's death, he will gain favor with those whose loyalty is easily won.”
    “Of course.”
    “But he will also create the illusion of being greater than Sirin Rohee himself. Only a divine can pay homage to another divine, so the priests say.”
    “I see,” said Cejka thoughtfully. “He will be seen not only as Rohee's successor, but as greater and more powerful than Rohee ever was—and all because he makes a