Sourcethief (Book 3) (18 page)

The monkey ran like a Takalish water clock. It would
need to be refilled, but so long as it was supplied with aether, it would
persist at whatever task it was given. Loramar had commanded legions of men and
beasts by such means.

"Councilor Jinzan Fehr," an unfamiliar
voice called out, surprising him. Jinzan had begun putting names to the voices
of his new followers, but this voice was not one of theirs.

"Enter," Jinzan called out, coughing. His
lungs were more used to the congested air of the crypts than to the exertion of
raising his voice.

"Councilor, Princess Shiann awaits you above.
She will not descend and requires your presence." The man before him in
Ghelkan formalwear could have been an ambassador by his age and bearing or a
messenger reserved for choice occasions. Jinzan fought back an inclination to
send the man away.
Shiann watches my wives and children. She gives me
shelter. I must relent.

"Very well. Lead me."

* * * * * * *
*

"Councilor Jinzan," Princess Shiann
greeted him. Her features were stony; she did not meet his eye as she had on
previous meetings. She sat in a painted chair held aloft by four girls of
barely flowered age. Whose magic held it up, hers or the girls', he did not
bother to examine. They were surrounded by guards and attendants.

"Princess," Jinzan replied, bowing his
head slightly.

"You have a guest," Princess Shiann said.
"He was sufficiently unusual and persuasive enough that I felt it worth
interrupting your studies."

"Who is he?" Jinzan asked.

"He said you would know him by the phrase:
I
have come with newses
," Princess Shiann quoted, speaking the latter in
Acardian.

Jinzan smiled. "His name is Tureg, Hjall Tureg.
He is the best sailor I know. Where can I find him?"

"We shall discuss that matter once you have
bathed, groomed yourself, and had a change of attire. I shall, in the meantime,
have a cross word with your keepers of late," Princess Shiann said.

"Is my appearance so offensive, Princess?"
Jinzan asked.

"The room you will be provided will have a
mirror. See for yourself. I must warn you, you will be allowed no contact with
your family. I will not subject them to seeing you in this state."

* * * * * * *
*

Jinzan marveled. A stranger looked back at him from
the mirrored glass. His hair stuck together in greasy clumps. His skin was
ashen. His cheeks were hollowed like an urchin's. The eyes were the startling
change; they sank within his skull, retreating from the world of life, it
seemed. They were rimmed in a red he had never seen upon a drunkard's morning
eyes and the flesh around them was swollen and dark.

When he stripped to enter his bath, he noticed for
the first time the change in his body as well. His skin was stretched tight
over every bone and the few muscles he still had. It was pale, except on his
hands which were bloodstained. He shivered, though whether it was at his
appearance or the sudden exposure of sheltered flesh to the breeze, he could
not say. He dropped into the steaming water.

An hour later he still soaked, relishing the human
comfort that he had been well on his way to forgetting. He had brought a small
mirror and a razor to where he bathed and used it to shave off the haphazard
stubble from his face. When neither soap nor comb could remedy his hair, he
shaved his scalp bare as well.

He jumped when the door opened unannounced. Wide
eyed, he watched Princess Shiann enter with neither guard nor advisor in tow.
There was also no Tureg.

"Get out of that bath immediately. I told you
to make yourself presentable, not lie there soaking," Princess Shiann
ordered. She was looking directly at him. Jinzan was three times married and
had been unclad in front of many other women in his lifetime, but he found
himself unable to lift himself from the water's protective covering in front of
Shiann.

"Princess, if you would—"

"Now!"

Jinzan scrambled to his feet, water pouring off him
in tiny waterfalls. He turned away from her to shield his more private regions,
twisting his neck to look for where his fresh clothing was kept. Princess
Shiann stalked over to the suite's lone bed and snatched up the robes that lay
there. She nearly handed them to Jinzan but pulled away at the last moment.

"Dry yourself first," she ordered. Jinzan
was skilled enough to dry himself with aether. A cocoon of heat surrounded him,
sucking air past him as it rose. Jinzan kept his back turned to the princess as
he did so, realizing only too late that the mirror ensured she had any view of
him she wished. He finished quickly and took the proffered clothing when it was
handed to him. "I may have fancied you when we first met, Jinzan, but I
think you have cured me of that."

Jinzan did not know how to reply. He finished
dressing while she watched as if he were a gawking curiosity.

At a gesture from the princess, the door opened. Jinzan
smiled when he saw his old friend enter.

"Jinzan, my good friend," Tureg called. As
a guard closed the door behind him, Tureg spread his arms wide in greeting but
then pulled up short. He had briefly given the impression he might hug Jinzan.

"Good to see you as well, old friend,"
Jinzan replied in a more reserved manner.

"Councilor, you ... are you all right? You look
unwell."

"You should have seen him a short while ago. I
felt like I dug him from his own tomb," Princess Shiann said.

"You look well, at least, Mist—" Jinzan
caught himself in an old habit, but stopped short. "Tureg."

"Captain, I think we may speak before the
princess," Tureg said.

"Indeed," Princess Shiann agreed.
"Captain Tureg and I enjoyed a nice conversation in your extended
absence."

"She is a princess in Khesh as well,
Captain," Tureg explained. "We may be able to offer help to one
another."

"Stalyart, you continue to amaze me,"
Jinzan said. "Princess, this half season so close at hand ... I never
knew."

"It seems we two keep our cards face down,
rarely peeking," Princess Shiann said. "To call me princess might be
to exaggerate, but I have influence and title. I think we need to take this
fight to the other side if we hope to win. Veydrus appears lost unless you
truly can replace Loramar. This Kyrus fellow I hear tell of ... now he just
might be able to bring us a new sunrise. It has been so gloomy here of
late."

"What do you propose?" Jinzan asked.

"You must put my dogs on the scent. I will
arrange them for your use."

They awoke to a light dusting of snow over the small
tent they had shared. Overnight the Acardian countryside had transformed from
grey and brown to pure white, with tall grasses poking through here and there
and a dusting of powdered sugar on the leaves. Brannis was the first to wake.
The predawn light had been enough to rouse him. He lay there for some time
listening to the wind and Soria's light snoring, his thoughts a jumble.

I am alone against him. Celia has
doomed me. Perhaps she saved me as well, but now there is no shield of liars
between me and him. If Rashan's temper had aimed my way, could I have stopped
him?
Brannis
looked to his side, studying the relaxed features of his beloved.
No. I sent
her away to protect against this.

A stirring in Soria's slumber broke Brannis's
thoughts. He had to tell her delicately, though he had spared little thought as
to how. A note too strong and she would rush back to his aid, safety be gutted.
He blew into his hand to warm it before brushing aside a lock of auburn hair
and stroking her cheek.

Soria stirred once more, stretching out to work
lethargic muscles loose. She reached an arm around Brannis and pulled herself
close. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him and smiled. By a trick of the
light, her eyes took on a bluish to their normal green. In their waking
languor, they looked much like Celia's—when hers had no guile in them, and
Soria's no fire.

"You've been awake a while, haven’t you?"
she asked. "You don't look sleepy at all."

"I suppose so," Brannis replied.

"That's not like you. " Her brow knit; her
own sleepy expression had faded.

"Caladris is dead," Brannis said. Nothing
in his musings had provided him with a more tactful approach.

Soria gasped, her eyes widened. "What
happened?"

"Dolvaen too, and all the rest of the Inner
Circle, save Fenris and my sister."

"Get away from there," she shouted,
hurting his ears from so close. She pushed herself up onto her hands to tower
over him, her back against the top of the little tent. "If Rashan is
clearing out every sorcerer worth the blood in him ..." Soria must have
noticed Brannis's nonchalance. Her frantic reaction settled into a look of
suspicion. "It wasn't you, was it? Some accident?"

"Well, that began it, but I think it was more
that Rashan's patience with leniency had run out. The murders of my father and
your grandfather came with a stay for those who yet lived," Brannis said.

"Wait, wait, circle about. What 'began it'?
There was some accident, wasn't there?"

"I leveled the army headquarters when that
speaking stone I was making threw back every bit of aether I put into it. I was
able to shield myself from it, but the building took the worst of it. It was
late, not many still left working at that hour. I have not heard a count of how
many might have died."

"That's awful," Soria said. "But how
did the Inner Circle end up dead for it."

"Celia's doing," Brannis said. He watched
as Soria's jaw clenched. "Stop that, she might well have spared me
Rashan's wrath last night. She blamed sabotage; I suspect that it was my own
error in some way. Either way, she told Rashan of the plots against him
involving both Caladris and Dolvaen. If she knew anything of our parts, she
said nothing to Rashan in my hearing."

"And for that Rashan slew nearly the whole of
the Inner Circle? What game is she playing at?"

"She warned me that Rashan is growing fearful
that I might endanger him through incompetence, if not malice. If not for her,
I might have taken the brunt of Rashan's tantrum."

"You're out of allies, Brannis. If he turns on
you, there's no one to stand with you. Aloisha would side with him sooner than
you, and I have no idea how Fenris kept himself off the end of Rashan's sword.
I'd sooner have suspected him than Dolvaen, if I didn't know better from you."

"We should make for Scar Harbor,” Brannis said.
“I have no idea how Lord Harwick is taking this, but it seems my best ally has
gone blind in one eye and the Solaran family is destined to be a Tellurak-only
gathering. I wonder if I should send for my father to move to the city as
well."

"I agree, good plan for this world, but you
need to get to safety in Veydrus too. Even if your trollop savior doesn't set
her dog on you, the demon is more monster than human. We'll meet up, take the
sky as our estate, and have some adventures well away from Kadrin."

"That sounds lovely, but I think I understand
Rashan. He is lonely, paranoid, finds more deception than truth in the words
spoken to him. I am still not certain that I must be the one to unmake him, but
if I am I would rather be prepared," Brannis said. "I am still
piecing together clues from that book of prophecies you left for me. It lays
bare a great deal that I would never have guessed about Rashan."

Soria looked away. She seemed as if she might say
something but as she parted her lips, she paused. She poked her tongue out a
bit, moistening her mouth, but said nothing.

"Axterion has been of some help as well,"
Brannis continued. "Before he went to his final battle as warlock, Rashan
visited both the stone folk beneath the Cloud Wall and the forest spirits of
Podawei Wood. The former rebuked him and the latter were not to be found, or so
he claimed. Or so he
claimed
." Brannis craned his neck up to put
his face closer to Soria's.

"You think he did find the forest spirits,
then?" Soria asked.

"I cannot say for sure, but I think he meant
to, and I think he had more thought in going there than just asking their aid
against Loramar."

"The book," Soria said. "You found
something of use in it?"

"I think he might have found the secret he was
looking for in there. 'One vase, filling fast, spilling faster / To see
another, no mirror may reflect it / Where to find its shadow, and absence not a
copy /
Seek a way among the spirits
'."

"He sought among the forest spirits then?"

"I think so, yes. I cannot assign exact dates
to the entries, but this one I think predated his trip to Podawei. It must
have. He had so little time between that trip and the Battle of the Dead Earth.
I feel like I have all the pieces. But what to do with them?

"Axterion thinks Rashan might have come to
Tellurak. He thinks that the mysterious figure in my father's book is Rashan
himself," Brannis said.

Soria stood then, clambering backward out of the
tent to do so. She needed no dressing, for they had gone to sleep bundled in
their traveling furs. Brannis followed a moment later, curious about what had
prompted her retreat. He found her near the horses, looking southwest toward
the Skelton Peaks.

"I have a confession," Soria said as he
approached. She did not turn to him as she spoke. "That book of prophecies
was shown to me by Illiardra when she was in Kadris for the wedding. She left
it with a purpose, I thought, so I passed it on to you in secret."

"Yes ..." Brannis knew that much.

"She left another book as well, one I didn't
want to show you," Soria said. She turned then, searching for his
reaction. All Brannis had to offer was a small, confused frown.

"What book?" he asked. He walked up behind
her and wrapped her in his arms. Thick furs separated them, preventing him from
feeling her warmth. But he could feel the frailty in her. For all her warrior
prowess, she was slender and insubstantial in his embrace.

"
The Peace of Tallax
. Have you read
it?" she asked. Brannis shook his head. "I thought not, else you may
have had other ideas about what to do with Rashan."

"If you knew it could help me with him, why
withhold it?"

"Because I didn't like the manner it would
prompt you to do it in. Everyone through the Academy hears the name Tallax, but
they never tell his story. I don't know how much of the book is true, but
Illiardra left it, so I suspect she at least believed it."

"She ought to know. She told me she knew the
man personally," Brannis said.

Soria shuddered. "Just thinking of someone
being that old bothers me. Only gods should be so ancient."

"If you chance to meet her again, maybe you
could ask her if she knew them too," Brannis suggested.

"I almost wonder whether you aren't
joking," Soria said. She shook her head. "In any event, go to the
libraries and see if you can find another copy. If you can't, I'll sneak back
and bring you the one I have."

"Fine, I will. Today though I think we take a
new direction. I see you staring off at those mountains. I cannot help thinking
of them too. I think there is enough in that book," Brannis said, pointing
back to the tent where their things were stashed, "that we might find
Rashan's old fortress."

"Even if we find it, what good would it do
us?" Soria asked. "I don't relish using my magic to try to dig the
place out. I'm not like you with that mighty Source. It's tiring work after a
while."

"What better remedy for a rockslide than an
Avalanche?" Brannis asked.

* * * * * * *
*

Northern Takalia was a beautiful land in winter, and
late autumn might well have been winter for all the difference there was
between them. The caravan plied their path in the snowy ruts that marked the
road. Old wagon drivers knew the trails well enough from city to city that
there was little chance of getting lost aside from a blizzard. The light snowfall,
which never quite seemed to fully stop, was little hindrance. Wendell, Zell,
and Jadon huddled beneath blankets in the back of a wagon.

"Frostwatch, my aching knees," Wendell
muttered. "Wake here from a fevered sleep, and I could swear it Hearthwatch."

"These are the Northlands," Zell said. The
cold air cleared his lungs and did not sweat him like an overwrought horse as
the summer heat did. "We can make for the South, if you'd rather, but I
think it's safer up here."

"How safe will we be if my mind is too fixated
on my shivering to work magic?" Wendell asked, slipping into Kadrin.
"Have you any new word of Anzik?"

"No, and I don't know when I might. Rashan
slaughtered the Inner Circle last night. If there was some scheme, it might
have died in the Sanctum. I haven't asked Kyrus yet. He's been a hard man to
see lately."

"Time to make a point of it. I suspect he
knows," Wendell said.

"Talk to him yourself; I'm not your
lackey," Zellisan snapped. Wendell was huddled beneath blankets, as
unimposing a figure as could be. He looked older than his years of late.

"I can't. He's dangerous to be around. You are
guard captain of the palace, your movements are explicable. I want no hint of
my life on this side to come across the warlock's thoughts. Let him think me
just a useful minion and nothing more," Wendell said.

"Are you talk Anzik?" Jadon asked. His
Kadrin was halting, thick with Megrenn in it, but clear enough to prove he knew
what he said.

"Yes, we are, Jadon," Wendell said,
continuing on with Kadrin. "We will find you and bring you home."

"I go home. I on sky boat," Jadon said.

"Well now, look who's started paying
attention," Zellisan said with a smile. "Jadon, who took you on the
sky boat?"

Jadon paused for a moment. It appeared he might
lapse back into the long silence that pervaded his days.

"I took it. Just me."

"You stole an airship?" Wendell asked.

Jadon paused a moment first but nodded.

"Bring it back," Wendell shouted. He
looked about abashed as the driver and riders on other wagons turned to see the
cause of the commotion. They heard only a man yelling at his grandson in a
foreign tongue. Wendell lowered his voice. "... before you get hurt."

"I not hurt me. Going home." Jadon turned
away and looked to the countryside.

"Jadon ..." Wendell attempted to get his
attention, to no avail.

"Looks like you might have to go looking for
him," Zell said.

* * * * * * *
*

"That's a boy. You don't have to answer nothing
to 'em," Tanner said. His Megrenn was passable, and he had made good use
of it that night. He and the boy shared quarters on the ship and Anzik's waking
had roused him. Deep sleep was a trap many twinborn fell to, but Tanner slept
like a guard dog and it served him well.

"I like it here," Anzik said.

"Well if you tell me where they're taking your
friend Jadon, I can send someone to help him too," Tanner said.

"We are on the road to Kistark," Anzik
replied.

"That should help." Tanner patted the boy
on the head and returned to his bunk. "Now get some sleep. Let me know if
you need my help again."

* * * * * * *
*

As they unmade the little camp that had served them
overnight, a breakfast of cured sausage and bread sat in their stomachs.
Brannis and Soria re-armed themselves and prepared for whatever lay ahead.