Forging Divinity (20 page)

Taelien began to pace around the room, but glanced back toward Lydia. “Do you know something about him? I mean, you and Jonan both knew his reputation as a scholar, but something more specific?”

Lydia nodded. “Specifically, he’s well known for writing treatises on sorcerous theory. He’s one of the foremost authorities on broad-scale sorcery, especially the applications of sorcery in warfare. He personally engineered the spell that resulted in the fall of Xixis.”

“That’s very impressive.”

“It is, but I’m sure it did make him a host of enemies. And his political views were never very popular in Velthryn.” She paused, a half-frown crossing her face. “I have a bit of a personal interest in him as well. I never knew my real father. He left few things of value behind when he left my mother – myself in her belly being one of them, a book by Erik Tarren being another.”

Taelien paused in his step, turning to face Lydia completely. A somber expression fell across his face. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like growing up without knowing your real father.”

Lydia nodded, and then shook her head, as if to dismiss the thought. A smile replaced her half-frown. “It’s all right. My mother married another man when I was only three. So, I had a father figure for most of my childhood. The book has always left me with a hint of curiosity, however. Why’d he leave that book, in specific? It was an obscure one, too – ‘The Nature of Worlds’.”

The sorceress gave a soft smile. “My mother couldn’t read, and my father must have known that – did he leave it for me, knowing that my mother was pregnant? I don’t know if the author of the book would have any idea about my father’s motives, but he’s the only hint I have. My mother never told me my real father’s name, or even a description.”

“I sympathize,” Taelien offered. “Maybe we’re related.”

Lydia gave scoffing laugh at that, pointing at his head. “Given our hair colors, I’d somewhat doubt it.”

“Agreed. I’m sure there are many children with stories similar to our own. Still, it’s nice to have some common ground.”

Lydia nodded in reply. “I feel the same. So, your parents – did they tell you anything about how to find Erik Tarren, aside from the city?”

“Oh, of course. They gave me an address,” Taelien explained, rubbing at his still-sweaty forehead with his off hand. “I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

“We haven’t exactly had time to hunt him down until now, anyway. Jonan and I have had plenty to do, and you seem to have been getting yourself into enough trouble to keep busy, too.” She gestured at his leg. “How’s that feeling, anyway?”

“Only the most minor of agony now, thank you. I’ve been using the sacred sword of your religion as a cane,” he said with a wink.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Just never tell any priests that you did that. They tend to be a little more fervent about the treatment of holy artifacts. Do you need me to redo your stitches?”

He shook his head. “No, Jonan took care of it in the morning. I should be fine.”

“Are you sure? Last time he took care of your stitches, they didn’t last the night,” Lydia pointed out.

“You’re over protective. Comes with the sorcery, I assume.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. I have my sacred sword cane to take care of me,” he said, tapping the sheath at his side.

“I thought you were just teasing about that.”

“Not at all,” he replied, smiling. “Want to come with me to look for Erik Tarren?”

Lydia pursed her lips. “Yes, but I really shouldn’t be seen with you. It’s a fairly significant risk.”

He shrugged in response. “I can wear a disguise. Jonan already gave me a cover identity, and I have a tail coat that he rented. I could go buy a hat and some other accoutrements, if you’d feel more comfortable that way.”

The sorceress adjusted her glasses, and then looked him up and down. “If you can disguise yourself to my satisfaction, I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll consider that a challenge.” Taelien grinned.

Taelien looked ridiculous.

He knew he looked ridiculous, and he seemed to be enjoying it significantly more than Lydia was. His strategy for avoiding notice was being so noticeable that no one would expect that he could be someone that was avoiding the law.

The garb that Jonan had rented was now accompanied by some new additions – a tall hat accentuated with a plume of blue feathers, a half-length black cloak with golden trim, a half-mask that covered the upper portion of his face, and a new form for the Sae’kes that actually made the sword and scabbard resemble a sword cane. He had purchased black dye and re-colored the leather portion of the scabbard, which was the only part that had been consistently recognizable even when he changed the shape of the metal. The dye stank even after several hours of drying, but he felt the effect was worth it.

Lydia could barely look at him without bursting into a fit of giggles, so he decided that his strategy was working.

The Perfect Stranger was a large, single-floor tavern in the Mercantile District. A wooden sign displaying the name over a painted image of a blue eye-mask hung over the entrance, and Taelien could hear the low murmur of the patrons conversing inside as they approached.

Lydia had taken the time to change into “less conspicuous” garb, and thus she was wearing a brown tunic and pants similar to his own. Her insignia of rank were tucked safely into a pouch on her belt, just in case she needed to show them.

And her hair was down. It was a glorious cascade of fire, and he often found his eyes wandering to the sheet of color. He wasn’t sure if she had noticed his occasional staring.

“This should be it,” Taelien said, pointing a thumb at the building.

Lydia hooked his arm and tugged him toward the entrance. “C’mon, I could use a drink.”

Taelien chuckled as they approached the entrance. “You’re in an atypically good mood.”

“Gotta blend in with the local atmosphere,” she said, but the smirk on her face told him that she actually was in a pleasant mood. He wasn’t quite clear on why.

Lydia pushed the door open, revealing a room longer than it was wide. At least two dozen customers were seated at various tables, and another half-dozen stood near the bar. Taelien glanced side-to-side, taking in the patrons of the tavern. None of them seemed to give either him or Lydia any undue attention, but he felt somewhat unsettled regardless.

Lydia dragged him toward the front, seeking the bartender as they had planned. When the man behind the bar turned around, she froze.

So did he.

The man was tall, about two or three inches taller than Taelien, and a good bit thicker. His rolled-up sleeves revealed that his bulk came from muscle, the kind of muscle you might see on a blacksmith or a lumberjack – or a soldier. His brown hair and neatly-trimmed goatee were flecked with gray. His eyes focused on Lydia for a moment, scrutinizing, and then he tilted his head to the side.

“What can I get for you two?” he asked, a half-grin cracking across his face.

“A mead for me,” Lydia said, snapping out of her momentary paralysis. “And what about you, James?”

She put an odd emphasis on his name, but he got the impression it wasn’t directed at him.

“Hrm. One of those ‘mead’ drinks, too,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at Lydia. She shook her head at him.

“Two flagons of mead it is,” the bartender said, spinning around to walk to a series of cups and bottles up against the wall.

Taelien glanced at Lydia. “Problem?”

“No,” Lydia whispered. “Maybe. Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe? That’s not foreboding or anything.

A cup had appeared in front of Taelien by the time he glanced back toward the bartender.

“Can I get you two anything else?” the man asked.

Lydia picked up her cup, “I think my friend had a question for you.”

“Oh?” The bartender turned toward Taelien. “What sort of question?”

Taelien suddenly felt very small.
This is foolish. What are the odds this man knows anything about Erik Tarren? I’m in the wrong place.

“I, uh, heard I might be able to find Erik Tarren here,” Taelien stammered, his hand fumbling for his drink.

The man furrowed his brow. “The scholar? Hrm.” He turned toward Lydia. “Might know a thing about that, but it might cost you.”

Lydia nodded. “We can pay.”

We can?
Taelien reached down with his left hand to feel for his coin purse – which, of course, he didn’t have. It had been taken along with all of his other belongings when he had been captured, and he had not found anything else along with his sword. He had been borrowing money from Jonan to pay for the additional clothing.

“Come chat with me around back,” the man offered, waving a hand toward a door behind the bar, and then opening the door and walking through it.

Lydia grabbed her drink and followed immediately. Taelien took another look around the room, scanning for anyone that looked hostile, but he just saw ordinary-looking customers. The only other people with weapons were a couple soldiers were playing some sort of game of darts involving three separate boards near the opposite side of the room.

After a quick glance behind him, Taelien picked up his drink and scuttled after Lydia into the back room.

Once Taelien stepped inside, Taelien scanned the room for threats immediately. Most of what he saw was crates and barrels, presumably containing more alcohol and supplies. A single round, wooden table with a handful of stools around it sat toward the back. Atop it sat a deck of playing cards and a bottle of half-empty alcohol.

There was a long spear leaning against the back wall, behind the table – the wooden shaft well-concealed among the boxes and barrels. It was a simple weapon, but a weapon nonetheless. Taelien took note of its position, but the bartender didn’t head toward it – he stepped back closer to the pair of them and shut the door tightly.

“Grab a seat,” he said, “And keep your voices low.”

Lydia led the way, taking a seat all the way toward the back – facing where they had entered.
A good decision, from a strategic standpoint. I wonder if she chose that position deliberately.

Taelien sat to her left side, awkwardly adjusting his scabbard and hilt to keep them from knocking into the table.

The bartender walked over toward Lydia a moment later, balling his right hand into a fist. In the moment while Taelien tensed for a fight, the bartender crisply brought the fist to his chest, and then released it. “Surprised to see you here, Lydia. Is he one of ours?”

Lydia made a fist and raised it to her own chest.
It’s a salute,
Taelien realized, breathing a sigh of relief.
He must be a paladin, like her.

“No,” Lydia replied, gesturing at Taelien. “But he might be more than that.”

“I’ve heard a few rumors,” the man nodded. He turned to Taelien, stretching out a hand. “Sorry for being rude. I’m Gerald Mason.”

Taelien clasped the man’s hand at the wrist. “Taelien Salaris.” The pair gave each other a brief squeeze at the wrist, displaying that they had no hidden weapons in their sleeves, and then released their grips with an exchange of nods.

Lydia glanced over to Taelien. “You never told me that last name before.”

“I was your prisoner when we made our introductions. And it isn’t my last name, precisely. It is my birth name, whereas Taelien is a title I took as my surname. I don’t have a family name, since I was adopted.” Taelien took a sip of his drink.
What a strange beverage. Tastes almost like honey.

“Ah, thought so. You must be the one Byron is all flustered about,” Gerald said, raising a hand to his chin.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Gerald lowered his hand in a quieting gesture. “Keep it down, Hastings. And I can’t talk long – Tom’ll take over the bar, but he’ll come looking for me in a few. Anyway, it’s nothing secret – there are posters up around town.”

“Posters? You mean like bounties for criminals?” Taelien asked, leaning forward against the table.

“Not wanted posters,” Gerald said. “They’re a challenge. They say that the ‘bearer of the Taelien is challenged to appear in the Court of the Spear’, or something along those lines. Basically, the prince is offering the ‘Taelien’ a chance to fight to prove his innocence of some sort of crime. I thought it was just a prank at first, but the number of posters indicated a real effort. And then after a day or so, I started hearing that some of them have the royal seal on them – forging that is a high crime.”

“Yeah, that’s talking about this Taelien,” Lydia said. “I’m not sure how much else I should say.”

Taelien quirked a brow. “Why not? I take it he’s one of your fellow p-“

Lydia shoved a finger in Taelien’s face. “Never say that word aloud in this city.”

Taelien frowned, but he went quiet.

“We’re in a closed room, but you’re pretty loud, and it’s a bad habit to start spouting information that could get someone killed. And yes, he is. But we’re not supposed to know about each other,” Lydia said.

“Don’t be too hard on the lad.” Gerald finally took a seat on the opposite side of Lydia. “Look, Salaris – people like Lydia and I are doing work that isn’t exactly legal here. We are not supposed to know about others like us, in case we get caught and interrogated. It’s a big city, and there aren’t many of us – at least I assume there aren’t – so we don’t run into problems like this very often.”