Stealing Sorcery (45 page)

“Torian Dianis, in accordance with the laws of Xerasilis and the people of this city, you are hereby called to the House of Justice to answer to the charges of conspiracy and murder.”

Torian glanced up from the table toward Aladir. “Give me just a moment – we have a few moves left.”

Liarra stood up immediately, looking around with wide eyes as more blades sang free from their scabbards. “What is this? What’s he talking about, father?”

The Rethri man sighed. “You’ve ruined it now.” He casually cast a hand across the table, knocking several pieces to the stone below. “Very well, arrest me. This should provide some brief entertainment, at least.”

“Liarra, please step away from your father.” Aladir took a step closer.

“No, explain yourself!” Liarra stepped in front of her father, raising both of her hands. “My father would never kill someone. And we’re only here because you asked us to be!”

Torian put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’s quite all right, my dear. I’ll be happy to go with these men and provide some clarity to ease their delusions.” He stepped away from Liarra, who lowered her hands, and smiled brightly. “This should give us a chance to get to know each other a bit better, won’t it Master Ta’thyriel?”

“Probably not in the way you’re hoping, Baron Dianis. Come with us.” Aladir waved with his sword and Torian fell into line with him. The circle of guards adjusted, moving to fall into a double-line to escort Aladir and Torian out the gates.

Lydia remained invisible on the sides, continuing to watch Liarra’s reaction. She seemed to be demonstrating legitimate shock. While Lydia might have normally utilized the Dominion of Knowledge to attempt to gather more information from the scene, her analysis spell had taxed her dangerously, and she knew any further spells might incapacitate her entirely.

She knew that Jonan remained nearby, maintaining his own invisibility as well as her’s. He had insisted on seeing this, and she didn’t blame him, given that his grievous injury might have been at Torian’s orders.

Liarra sunk down in the chair on her side of the table as her father walked away, seemingly at a loss. She buried her head in her arms, and Lydia thought she heard the sound of muffled tears.

Rialla approached from the opposite side of the courtyard from where Torian had exited. Liarra did not look up until Rialla spoke.

“Can I sit here?”

Jonan had woven no disguise this time – but Rialla’s eyes were a different color than they had been when Lydia had seen her before. They were the blue-white of ice, the color that rumors had hinted her eyes to be at birth.

“Ri…rialla?” Liarra stammered, looking up.

“It’s me, little sister. I’m home.”

Lydia gestured to the window where she knew Jonan was watching and walked back inside. It was unlikely that the reunion of sisters would be focused on discussing assassins and Rethri cults.

***

Lydia met with Jonan inside. He had slumped back down into the chair that sat near his bed.

“Well, that was touching. Where are we headed next?”

Lydia shook her head. “I’m going to visit Landen and warn him. Even with Torian arrested, other members of that organization might be after him. In fact, Torian’s arrest might make them anxious, which could make them strike even faster.”

“A good point. And we still don’t know why Nedelya walked out that window.”

If Torian shares his daughter’s skill set, he could have talked her into walking out a window with deception sorcery. But it’s also possible he simply was holding something over her – information, threats, or something similar.

“There was a suicide note – the one that she was writing when we watched in the mirror. She managed to conceal the name ‘Dianis’ within it, but that was the only clue I could find.”

Jonan raised an eyebrow. “Nedelya managed to write a coded message in there while she was being watched? That’s…impressive. I don’t think I would have had the presence of mind to do something like that. But I suppose we still don’t know her exact circumstances.”

“Right. All signs point to Torian having some kind of significant leverage over her. Hopefully we can get him to confess, but I’m not counting on it. For now, warning Landen is my highest priority. Aladir will see to the trial.”

“Lovely. When do we leave?”

“There’s no ‘we’ involved right now. You look about three quarters dead, and even if that’s only half true, that’s still three eighths. More than an acceptable margin of dead for this assignment.”

Jonan rolled his eyes. “That’s a very exact measurement.”

“I’m a very exact person, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Right. Well, at a minimum, take the antidotes we’ve been working on. Rialla will know the most recent results – ask her about the ones that worked best. They’ll only work for the poison that was used on Kalsiris, however – not whatever affected me.”

“I’m not sure any traditional antidote would have worked on the poison they used on you – it seemed to be deliberately designed to be difficult to cure. Regardless, I suppose the other assassin is probably still the one out there, which means we might see the first poison again. Can I trust something Rialla has been working on? Just finding out that her father was involved doesn’t mean she’s innocent. In fact, it should make her more of a suspect, not less.”

Jonan shook his head. “You don’t know Rialla like I do. She hates her father. He was going to kill her little brother – Elias – for being born without a dominion bond. There’s no chance she’s working with him, I promise you that. I admit that if her sister had been the one in the mirror, I would have looked at this situation differently, but Torian – no, she wouldn’t work with him.”

“Fair enough. I suppose bringing the antidotes would be a sensible precaution.” Lydia frowned, stepping close to Jonan and giving him an inquisitive look. He stood, giving her a crooked half smile, and she carefully maneuvered her arms around his wounded limb to hug him tightly. “Thank you, Jonan.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I just nearly lost a limb. Not a big deal.” He sighed, pulling her closer against him. He was cold and sweaty, but she didn’t mind. “Be careful out there. Whoever made that poison is going to be extremely dangerous – far more so than those would-be assassins I had to deal with. Don’t get yourself more than three eighths dead.”

“I’ll aspire to keep my fractions manageable.”

“Good.”

They held each other in silence for as long as Lydia could keep the growing paranoia in her mind at bay.

Taelien limped and stumbled into the dawnfire’s light, still pressing his left hand against the wound on his side. He knew intellectually that the injury wasn’t very severe – he had suffered far more dangerous injuries in the past. Nevertheless, that pain burned brilliantly, distracting him from the milder – but more dangerous – discomfort from overusing his metal sorcery.

The change in light was almost blinding at first, but as his vision cleared, he saw pennants marking the exterior of a large Paladins of Tae’os encampment a few hundred yards distant. There were three large tents – the kind he typically associated with command centers or hospital tents – and at least half a dozen smaller ones. A group of tabard-wearing sentries spotted their bedraggled group immediately and one of them broke off from his group and approached.

The swordsman stood up a little straighter, hoping to preserve at least a fragment of his dignity. Velas walked up to his left side, still leaning on her hilarious spear-gauntlet combination, and adjusted her posture in the same way that he had.

“Hey!” The approaching sentry waved, giving a friendly grin. Taelien squinted, but he didn’t recognize the man. He was short and a little heavy, but his short sleeves exposed thick muscular arms. Given the enthusiastic greeting, Taelien raised his left hand from his false injury to wave back in return rather than attempting a proper salute. “Wow, made it out of there already? Garrick is going to shit himself.”

He chuckled weakly alongside Velas and Landen, which made his chest ache even more. Asphodel laughed a few seconds later, and the sentry gave her a quizzical look.

“Glad to hear we made good time, Sir…” Velas opened.

“Oh, sorry! I’m Caul. No fancy title, just a newly minted paladin myself. You guys look pretty wrecked! C’mon, let’s get you to camp. We’ve got food. And clothes!”

Until that moment, Taelien had never been particularly exuberant about the idea of clothing, but after the experience in the prison, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Lead the way, Caul.”

The paladin camp was on a grassy plateau on the edge of what looked like a lush forest. Given the size of Velthryn, Taelien couldn’t be sure at a glance if it was wilderness or just a large city park. He didn’t see any civilians about, which gave him a slight leaning toward the former, but that implied they had been transported a long distance in their sleep – which was more than a little disconcerting.

As they approached, Taelien tried to sound casual as he asked the question that had been on his mind since he awoke in a panic. “Hey, Caul. You wouldn’t happen to know where my sword is, would you?”

“Your sword? Oh, all your gear should be with your clothes.” Caul waved a hand dismissively.

Clearly he doesn’t know who I am, or he would have made a bigger deal out of that.

I…think I’m kind of disappointed.

After a moment of confusing self-reflection, Taelien half-heartedly muttered, “Great, thanks.”

I spend my entire life trying to distance myself from my connection with that thing and as soon as anyone else doesn’t acknowledge it, I feel empty. Lydia would have a field day if I told her about this. Which I am absolutely not doing under any circumstances.

Taelien glanced over at Velas. She caught his look, but just raised her eyebrows repeatedly, which probably was some kind of sexual innuendo. He wasn’t really clear on what she was specifically referring to – their near nudity, maybe? – but it was usually pretty safe to assume she was being lewd.

At the moment, that was kind of comforting in its normalcy, so he raised his own eyebrows right back. She winked at him, grinned, and looked back toward the camp.

I’m not sure exactly what happened there, but I was probably flirting.

He tried not to think about that too much, and instead, inspected the camp further. There were over a dozen tents, which implied a significant population of paladins. The tents themselves varied in size and markings. While there were lookouts, none of them had the look of a high degree of alertness, which indicated they probably weren’t in an area that posed any actual danger.

He didn’t see any candidates from other groups, but there were paladins with tabards from each order represented among those within the camp. A small group of Paladins of Eratar were cooking over a fire pit, and the smell of exotic spices made Taelien’s stomach growl.

“Woah, hey, are you injured?” Caul was staring wide-eyed at Taelien’s side. His arm was covering most of the cut, but there was still a smear of blood visible. “That’s – we need to get you to the medic! Come here!”

Caul redoubled his pace, heading toward a white tent marked with a symbol of the hand of Lissari. Taelien followed with a groan, Velas staying by his side.

“The rest of you can head to that big tent over there – that’s where Garrick will be with you gear.” Caul pointed to a sky blue tent with a pennant embroidered with Eratar’s symbol standing vigil outside.

“I’d really rather get my clothing first – I think the wound can wait.”

Velas nudged him lightly. “Don’t be absurd, Sal. You need to get that looked at. Come on.”

In truth, Taelien was much more concerned about his weapon than his clothes – modesty had never been a problem for him. Even if Velas did seem entirely too pleased by his present condition.

He appreciated that when the others waved and turned away to get their equipment, Velas stayed by his side. That kind of loyalty earned her a lascivious glance or two.

“Got a couple patients coming in.” Caul leaned down and lifted the flap that served as the tent’s front door, allowing Taelien and Velas to duck inside.

The tent housed eight simple cots in two rows of four, each covered with clean white sheets. They were empty, save for the grey-haired man sitting atop the last cot on the left side. He looked up from his book with a hint of irritation on his face, which shifted toward confusion when he processed the intruders in his domain.

“You’re paladin candidates.” He folded his arms across his chest. “How are you injured?”

“Chain from one of those sentry constructs took a chunk out of my side. And I’m a little lightheaded from using metal sorcery.”

“Don’t forget that you were also electrocuted.” Velas noted. “We both were.”

“Played with your collars, did you?” The older man stood up, patting one of the cots. “Come sit down, I’ll take a look at you.” He glanced at Velas. “And you, miss? Why are you here?”

“Wanted to make sure he actually told you all of his symptoms. Also,” she lifted up her hair and turned around, displaying a patch of scalded flesh on the back of her neck, “That collar hurt.”

“Curious. I’ve never seen that effect from one of the collars – it shouldn’t be capable of outputting enough heat to injure you like that. I warned those idiots not to put a dominion bonded item into a test, but they – never mind. Sit on the next bed over, I’ll look at you next.”

As the doctor approached, Taelien noted that the man was wearing civilian garb – he either wasn’t a paladin or he wasn’t in uniform for some reason. Taelien judged the former more likely, but he considered the possibility that the man simply wasn’t expecting to be a participant in the exercise.

“Move your hand, son.”

Taelien shifted his arm away from the wound. The doctor leaned in closer. “You said this was from one of the sentries?”

The swordsman nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“No sir for me, not anymore. This is no good. They should have shielded you before the test started – those constructs are vicious things. You’re lucky it only grazed you.”

Lucky? More like fast. But he has a point.

Velas sat down on her designated cot and leaned back against the tent wall. “I think he did have a barrier – or, well, at least I did when the exam first started. Perhaps his barrier wore off before the combat began.”

“How long were you in there?”

“Not long. Thirty seven minutes, I’d say,” Taelien estimated.

Velas quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s awfully exact.”

He shrugged. “Seemed about right.”

“No competent protection sorcerer makes barriers that last less than an hour. It sounds like some disciplinary action may be in order, but who am I to talk?” The doctor shook his head, retrieving a large medical kit from underneath one of the cots on the opposite side of the room. “Sit still, I need to clean the wound and stitch it up.”

Not a sorcerer, then, either. Wonder why he’s here – I know they have life sorcerers in the paladins, like Aladir.

“Do you need a hand?” Velas offered.

“Quite fine, my dear. I’ll be with you when I’m done treating this young man.”

Velas tapped her left hand on her leg. “I can take care of my neck if you’ll let me grab the supplies. I’m a Jaldin, I know my way around a medical kit.”

“I don’t care if you’re Lissari herself, miss. You’re a patient right now, and you’re not in the field. You don’t patch yourself up. You wait.”

Velas sighed. “Fine.”

The doctor was quieter once he began treating their injuries, never bothering to introduce himself. Cleaning the wound was relatively painless, but stitching the wound without anesthetic felt worse than the injury itself had.

Velas held Taelien’s hand while the needle wove through his skin, which proved both a kindness and a mild source of entertainment as they played at conquering each other’s thumbs. The doctor, for his part, seemed to ignore their antics.

Once the needlework was done, the doctor applied a poultice to the wound and wrapped his chest with bandages. “Who’s your overseer? I’ll recommend that they let you skip the next test.”

Taelien tensed his jaw, embarrassed by the idea of missing one of his exams due to an injury. “Garrick Torrent is my squad’s overseer, but please don’t do that. I’ll be just fine.”

“From your pallor, you’ve lost a fair bit of blood. You’re not in any condition for this particular test. At a minimum, they need to make accommodations. For the moment, you clean the blood off your face – there will be supplies in your overseer’s tent – and get yourself some food and a few hours of sleep.”

“I’ll wait until she’s done with her treatment, if you don’t mind.”

Velas gave Taelien an appreciative nod. “My wound shouldn’t take as long to deal with, it’s fairly mild.”

The doctor sighed. “No one ever listens to me. Fine, fine. You can stay, but don’t get in the way.”

The grey-haired man cleaned the injury around Velas’ neck, and then applied a different type of poultice to the wound. Velas looked like she wanted to complain – and from the way she was eyeing the kit, he suspected she wanted to use a different kind of ointment – but she didn’t say anything. When the doctor finally finished wrapping her neck with a bandage, she quickly stood to leave.

“Thank you for helping us both, doctor,” Velas offered.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Just don’t do anything that’s going to put you in here again.”

“Deal.”

Taelien stood up and offered a hand, which the doctor clasped at the wrist. “Thank you, doctor.”

After Velas clasped wrists with the doctor as well, they finally departed the tent, eagerly heading toward the remainder of their group. Landen was waiting outside the tent for them, dressed in a full uniform and with damp hair.

“How are you two holding up?” He lifted the entrance to the tent, allowing them to slip inside and following behind them.

“Doing better now that we can finally get dressed.” The blue tent was larger than the medic’s tent, but only had six cots inside. Taelien’s eyes tracked for the Sae’kes, and he found it lying next to the one on the back-left side – across from where Garrick Torrent stood.

“You’re late,” the overseer remarked with a smirk.

Taelien patted the bandages on his chest. “Well, I heard these were the latest fashion, so I absolutely had to get some.”

Garrick tilted his head to the side. “The others told me you got injured, but I admit I was a little skeptical. That shouldn’t have happened, and I apologize.”

Taelien nodded. “That’s no problem. I expected to get hurt during these tests – it’s not anything to be concerned about. Accidents happen.”

Separating me from my sword, on the other hand – that’s a problem. A problem we’re going to have a very serious talk about later, ideally when I have a sufficient rank that it doesn’t get me expelled from the organization for mouthing off to a superior.

Lieutenant Torrent frowned. “Yes, accidents do happen. But I watched the sorcerer put a barrier on each of you – an injury like that shouldn’t have been possible.” He glanced at Velas. “Your situation is regrettable, but more plausible, at least. Most barrier spells won’t stop something that’s pressed directly against your skin. I watched what you did in there – manipulating the charge in the collar. Dangerous, but also impressive. You’re getting a Rank A for it.”

Velas brightened noticeably at that, straightening her posture again. “Thank you, sir.” She raised a hand in salute, which Taelien mirrored, realizing in retrospect that he had been terribly rude not to salute his commanding officer immediately on entry.

“It’s fine, you can put your hands down. You’re both sleep deprived and injured. I’ve never been one for formalities, anyway.”