Aethersmith (Book 2) (37 page)

“In Kadrin, I take on the burdens I am given. As for
Juliana, I have loved her since I was a boy. Beyond that, it is our own
business. I think here, away from Kadrin politics and meddling, that bit
matters—to me at least, and I suspect perhaps even more so for her.”

The door to the captain’s cabin opened, and Stalyart and his
brother emerged. Stalyart once again looked irritated, though being put out of
his own quarters seemed enough of a slight to warrant it. Close behind them
followed Zellisan and Tanner. Wendell emerged a moment later, carrying his hat
in both hands, piled over with coin. Despite making him play with his sleeves
rolled to the elbow, and half of the players having aether-vision, the street
magician had cleaned them out. Soria was the last one remaining within.

“Kyrus, I think you know as well as I what she has in mind,”
Rakashi commented. “But for all her bravado and swagger, I very much believe
she is a maiden; she does not let men close to her. If you are not gentle with
her, we will have a quarrel.”

Brannis smiled wistfully at the cabin door, left slightly
ajar in invitation. “We have played this out once before, she and I. I think
your reminder might better have served her ears than my own. She needs no
protection from me.”

When the door to Stalyart’s cabin closed behind Brannis, a
crude, hastily scratched ward flickered to life, ensuring their privacy for the
evening.

Chapter 21 - Sharing Secrets

Juliana was nearly skipping through the halls of the palace
the next morning, her evening with Brannis in the other world being a memory
just hours old. Iridan had not been in her bed when she awoke, though he had
been when she had fallen asleep. Her only tiny worry was that she had given
some hint of her actions in Tellurak as she slept.
A dream is a dream,
unless you are not a dreamer yourself
, she reasoned. Even if she had talked
in her sleep, she could hardly be held at fault for it. She was certain Iridan
was stuck in Veydrus.

Her destination had not been far from the chambers she
shared with Iridan. The wards nearly glowed in the light, making Kyrus’s room
simple to find, even had she not known where to look for it. Juliana knocked
softly on the door, hoping not to draw attention to her visit. Unfortunately
the ward kept the knock from making any noise at all.

From its concealed sheath, she drew Freedom, having assigned
the name to the heavier of her daggers that had seen her through Rashan’s ordeal
the day before. When he had come to let her and Iridan out of the cells, he had
found her collapsed and nearly insensible, but she had broken the wards; the
door had been unlocked, and only awaiting the return of her strength before she
would have left under her own power. She took Freedom, and jabbed at the door
with it, hard, watching in the aether for a reaction. Wobbly waves shuddered
through it, like poking a finger into the still water of a wash basin. It gave
no sign of relenting before her attack, but it served better than knocking with
her fist.

After a moment, the ward relaxed and the door opened.
Juliana snuck inside before a surprised Kyrus could react—or object. She shut
the door again behind her. She felt the rush of aether past her as the ward
sealed them in together.

“Fair morning, my love.” She grinned mischievously at him,
throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him passionately. “Guess who
you
are not?” She still held him close by, her fingers laced behind Kyrus’s neck.
She was still smiling at him.

“By the winds, girl, how did you ever find me out?” Kyrus
deadpanned in reply before his own face split wide in a grin to match her own.
He could not help himself; she was infectious.

“I admit, a bit more muscle looks good on you, but I
suppose, given that you have met Soria, that I am not one to cast aspersions
regarding idleness.” Juliana giggled. “You had an outlandish tale, but the
alternative was even more so, until I saw for myself. Even when I first saw
Brannis, I thought perhaps I had discovered where your sword and armor had
ended up. The plate hid your physique well enough, and Avalanche would be just
as deadly in the hands of a scrivener as a knight, I supposed.”

“And my appearance?” Kyrus offered. “Not enough of a
giveaway?”

“Of course not. I was looking for Brannis all along. I was
hoping to identify you by his look, and I found him. I was, perhaps, a bit
blinded by desire for you. All I saw was my Brannis. I didn't stop to think
that probably was not what I should have found.”

“So when was it that you realized?” Kyrus asked. They had
taken so little time to really talk in Tellurak. There was more privacy to be
had behind his wards than Soria’s paltry ones. Even without aether-vision,
Brannis had been able to tell that her runes were shabby.

“You sure you want to know?” Her grin spread a bit wider.
Kyrus chuckled but nodded. “Well, you may not even have known about them, but
you have the tiny little scars on your back—Well, Brannis does at least. They
do not look like anything, but you can feel the little raised lines where they
differ from the skin around them. I made those, years ago.” Kyrus blushed.
Juliana laughed out loud. “I should check to make sure you don't have them, 
too. I would feel silly if you had them as well, and that other Brannis over
there had gotten a matching set by coincidence.”

She moved her hands to the hem of his tunic, and grabbed
hold.

* * * * * * * *

Oh, I am a lucky fool. A bad friend, though, but perhaps
I can find some way to make amends.

Kyrus was exhausted. Juliana napped peacefully on his chest.
There were a hundred things he ought to have been doing, and eventually Warlock
Rashan would be looking for him. The wards at the door might thwart him, or
they might not. Kyrus’s wards were simple, but well formed and powerful.
Whether he was kept out or not, whether he could see within or not, eventually
the wards would have to be lifted for Juliana and him to emerge.

Things seemed so much simpler now in Tellurak than they did
in Veydrus. The Imperial Circle’s arcane policies had parted them but had no
provision for going back and righting that miscarriage of justice. Juliana and
Iridan had wed. Brannis had been there to hear the vows exchanged; they were
pledged for life, not the convenience of the emperor, the warlock, or certainly
not for some unschooled sorcerer who was not even officially a part of the
Imperial Circle, however powerful his Source might be.

Dark thoughts drifted idly through Kyrus’s head as he
watched the serene, sated beauty playing out on the face that rose and fell
with his breathing.
I could kill him
, Kyrus pondered.
Strong as
everyone says he is, he would hardly put up a fight, I think. If hurled fire
can wound Rashan like that, I would need no other weapon against him. Or I
could get him killed in battle. He seems to come close every time even without
effort; just send him to the battlefront and wait, try again if I must. It is
my duty to send men to die, to choose whose sacrifice benefits the Empire.
Kyrus shook the thoughts away.
No, I could never do it. I can only think
thus when I ignore that it is
Iridan
, not some nameless, faceless suitor
of my love. Her husband, my best friend. Never. Might that I could convince him
to give her up. It was never what he wanted. With my emergence as a sorcerer, I
am no longer an embarrassing match. Maybe I could approach Shador to see about
it.
Kyrus knew that was not going to work. An alliance with the warlock’s
son was too politically valuable to abandon; he might have chanced it before
the wedding had occurred, but there would be too much fallout from the
dissolution of the union.

He turned his attentions back to Juliana herself. He watched
her, and she pillowed upon his chest. He felt her breath on his skin. He saw
her eyelids flicker.
Are you watching Soria’s mischief as you nap
? he
wondered. She could probably hear the beating of his heart.

Juliana stirred a bit, stretching and arching her back,
working the sleep out of her muscles. Her eyes opened sleepily, drawing a smile
from Kyrus, which she matched. She planted a kiss on his chest, then another,
working her way up to his lips one kiss at a time. She wrapped her arms around
him. When she rolled over, Kyrus found himself pulled atop her. He was helpless
to resist.

I can stop this any time I want to
, he told himself.

He could not want to.

* * * * * * * *

Rashan paced the hall, fuming.
No Iridan. No Juliana. No
Brannis.
Iridan’s absence at morning practice had been his first annoyance.
The boy had been furious at Brannis after being released from the sorcerer
cells in the dungeon. Hearing that Juliana had managed all of her escape save
for leaving the cell had stung. Seeing the blatant destruction Brannis had
wrought upon the cells and surrounding dungeon had both awed and shamed him.
He
knew that Brannis had thrown their draw. How could he have not, if he was
capable of outdrawing the wards in those cells?

It had taken all his persuasion to keep Iridan from running
off to confront Brannis about his deception. Once word got around Kadris of Brannis’s
feat of power in the dungeons, everyone else would know that Iridan had won
their draw by sheer force of pity. Eventually Juliana had promised to see to
calming him and they had retired to their chambers.
I hope she did not kill
him and dump his body in the sea
, Rashan mused darkly. Iridan had warded
their door too well for him to spy on them within. That same ward made him
think that Iridan must have released it to leave; Juliana was strong, to be
sure, but not to the point of breaking Iridan’s wards—
Unless perhaps she
used that dagger again to destroy them physically
, Rashan muttered in his
head.

Rashan waited. He stared at the door to Brannis’s chambers,
impatient but preferring to wait, and see who emerged—and in what state—rather
than barge in and betray his presence (or worse, attempt to barge in and fail).

Worry crept into the warlock’s thoughts, winning a long
battle of attrition against his anger and annoyance.
What if something has
gone terribly wrong in there? Could Iridan and Brannis’s imposter have dueled
within? Did Brannis try to enact his escape with another attempt at a
transference spell?
The explanations seemed implausible. Iridan was angry
with Brannis, but should have held no illusions about trying to fight him. Had
Brannis tried to get back to Tellurak, Rashan would have felt even a failed
attempt reverberating in the aether.

Rashan waited. Paranoia crept into his mind once more.
This
could be a trap, a ruse, a diversion. What if the wards were sealed from the
outside? What if no one has seen them by some other coincidence or trick, and
the room was left for me to puzzle over while they hatched some plan or other?

Stop it,
the warlock ordered himself.
This is the
path to madness!
Rashan stalked down to one of the disused sitting rooms on
the floor, and procured for himself an easy chair. Setting it up just outside
Brannis’s door, he flopped down into it to wait out whoever might be inside.

“Warlock Rashan!” a call came from the far end of the
corridor. A thin stick of a young man in a messenger’s uniform approached him,
handing him a rolled sheet of parchment tied with a ribbon. Had it been a
matter of true import or secrecy, it would have been sealed with wax or in a
case. Rashan was bored, though, and welcomed whatever mild diversion the
missive would supply.

Airships 5 and 6 are confirmed functional. All runes
tested. New designations: Starflower, Eagle Wing. Flying crews have been
assigned. Awaiting orders and supplemental personnel.

Sorcerer Uthgern Fernwall, Fourth Circle

Rashan read it over thrice, brief as it was, before it hit
him. “Where is the fourth airship? Why is it not mentioned?”

“Your pardon, Warlock, but the
Aether Hammer
set
sail—if that is the term—this morning, first light,” the messenger replied
stiffly, uncomfortable with the warlock’s attention fixed on him. Little did
the lad know that Rashan would as soon harm him as smash a dish because he
disliked a meal; it would have been a childish response, mindless destruction
perpetrated on one undeserving of blame.

“By whose order?” Rashan asked. He had guesses, but wished
to hear confirmation.

“I was not told, Warlock,” the messenger replied, cringing
but not backing away.

I really,
really
must do something about this
reputation of mine.

“Understood. Carry on,” Rashan said, then dismissed the
relieved young man.

There is at least one answer I will be pleased with, one
I will care little for, and one that someone just may have to die for.

* * * * * * * *

Later, too much later by Rashan’s reckoning, the wards
relaxed and the door peeked open. Before it could slam shut again, Rashan
thrust it open with his magic.

“Well, oathdaughter, how good of you to freshen up before
rejoining the day. I hope the marshal of all Kadrin’s armies has not kept you
from any important business this morning.” Rashan’s words dripped venom as he
strode into Brannis’s chambers. He saw the fresh-scrubbed skin, and smelled the
masculine scent of the bath salts the palace staff kept stocked in the rooms of
the male residents.

“Not at all, but it seems we kept the Imperial Regent from
his charge of running the Empire,” Kyrus butted in, protecting Juliana from the
warlock’s direct attention. He was still straightening his tunic, and buckling
on his sword belt, decorative though he considered the weapon.

“Oh, you had best have a good explanation for this,
Brannis,” Rashan growled. “I spent half the morning awaiting your presence.”

“Sounds like something you could have delegated. I had no
appointment this morning. You like direct answers, despite rarely being one to
give them. You want my explanation, there she is.” Kyrus pointed to Juliana.
“Simplest explanation works the best at times. Perhaps you saw the little note
I made in your book?”

Juliana looked puzzled, not aware of Kyrus’s petty
vandalism.

“What have you done with Iridan?” Rashan glared at one, then
the other of them.

“He is your problem each morning,” Juliana put in. “I have
him at night, and the rest of the day is his to do with as he pleases. He was
gone when I woke this morning, so I had assumed he was at practice.”

Rashan took pause a moment. “One of the new airships is
missing, the
Aether Hammer
. What do you know of this?”

“It was expected to be ready at any time. I did not order it
away. The
Aether Hammer, Starflower,
and
Eagle Wing
were going to
be ordered to perform reconnaissance around Munne to check for Megrenn’s next
move,” Kyrus replied, more curious now than irritated at the warlock’s rude
entrance. Somehow, after the prior day’s encounter, he could not bring himself
to feel quite the same note of unease in Rashan’s presence.