Sworn To Transfer (33 page)

Nodding, Sebastian told two surrounding soldiers to take the man to the healer’s tent and see that he had what he needed.

Turning back to the others, Alexandra asked, “What could the mage possibly gain from a story like that? What’s so important about his life that the Weathervane must know?”

They all turned to look at Ciardis to see if she had caught a message that they had not.

“It’s my life. My life before I came to court,” she replied.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Maree Amber asked forcefully. “You’re not that man and you never will be.”

Ciardis thought so, too, but she had to wonder.

Just before a minute had passed, the man came hobbling back, “Milord, there’s one other thing. I forgot when the shadow man asked me details. I told him that I had found some family on the other side of the forest. Was planning to move before...you know...”

Ciardis missed the hard looks exchanged within the group around her as she flashed back in her memories to the man she’d met in the bookbinder’s shop. The man she thought had been her brother.

I had to have been mistaken
, she said to herself.

“Milord,” ventured Meres, “we either have a shadowwalker or a necromancer on our hands.”

“The only Necromancer in existence is one the Imperial family has complete trust in,” Sebastian said with steel in his voice.

“And a Shadowwalker has not walked this Earth since the Initiate Wars hundreds of years ago,” said Vana.

“Forgive me, Milady,” said Alexandra. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

“That is true,” conceded Maree Amber. “We must prepare for the worst.”

As the group dissipated—or, rather, as Maree, Vana, and Meres went off to talk alone—Ciardis decided to go unpack in a tent. They didn’t need her here.

“Hold a minute, Ciardis,” called Sebastian.

She turned back patiently as she waited for him to catch up with her.

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“I can tell that something else is bothering you,” he said, walking forward and standing face to face with her. “Is there something that you haven’t told Lord Kinsight?”

“I’ve told him everything I know.”

She sighed. “But Sebastian, this is personal. I don’t think this is an outside group. I think the Shadow Mage is the primary organizer.”

Sebastian frowned. “And the Duchess of Carne?”

“Had nothing to do with this,” Ciardis said with an irritated flap of her hand. “This goes deeper. The Shadow Mage has some sort of history with the area.”

Sebastian nodded. “That would fit with the story told to us by the survivor.”

“The question is who is his brother, and why now?”

“I may have found someone who can tell us how, at the very least,” Sebastian said. “The Ashlord has travelled with us. He might be able to give us some answers on the source of the Shadowwalker’s powers since their magical disclipines are similar.”

“Prince Heir Sebastian,” said Maree Amber respectfully from behind him, “we need to have further discussions.”

Sebastian nodded at her and looked back at Ciardis hesitantly.

“Would you like to join us?”

Ciardis waved him off. “I’ve had all I can stand this day. I will follow up with you later.”

Turning, she left him and Maree Amber behind as they joined the others. As she walked back, she heard some soldiers chatting. “You heard, right? We’re only here because Prince Heir Sebastian had an itch for his main squeeze.”

His comrade laughed and snorted. “Not even pretty enough to warrant it.”

“What?” his friend teased. “Not good enough for you?”

“Not skinny enough.”

Why were those soldiers talking so disparagingly about the Prince Heir, and what squeeze?

“Certainly powerful, though.”

“I don’t need power in a woman.”

It was then that Ciardis caught on that they were talking about her. As she strode forward to confront the lewd louts, she ran straight into another soldier. Stepping back with her hand upraised to ward him off, she scowled.

“Forgive my intrusion, Milady, but those are
my
troops,” Somner said firmly. “If anyone shall punish them for their mouths, it shall be me.”

Proudly, she said, “See that you do.”

She watched him turn to the small area where the soldiers stood and watched as he dressed them down in a way that would make the taciturn washerwomen of Vaneis proud. But she couldn’t help but be sad—sad that she wasn’t included, that she didn’t fit in anywhere. That she didn’t belong in the courts like Serena and Sebastian, in the forests like Terris and Meres, in streets like Christian and Stephanie, or, obviously, in on numerous secrets like Vana and Maree Amber.

She needed some alone time to think. Angry at herself for even being sad when she had things she could only dream of back in Vaneis, she stomped off alone in the forest.

W
alking into the woods, which wasn’t far from where they set up camp, Ciardis was beginning to regret her fit of anger. But she was tired and the people around her were bringing out the absolute worst in her. Christian caught up to her fleeing form with ease as he hopped onto a fallen tree and proceeded to walk up the steep angle parallel to Ciardis’s head.

“You know some people would think you wanted to be killed running away all alone like that,” he said.

She had to stifle a laugh when she looked up to see him holding out his hands to balance himself on the trunk of the tree.

“Some people would say I just wanted some quiet time alone,” she countered in amusement.

He snorted and flipped off the trunk to somersault in the air and land right in front of her. She stopped in astonishment.

“How’d you do that?” she said in awe.

“Practice.”

“Well, Mr. I-Can-Do-Somersaults-in-Mid-Air, how’d you like to be known for a talent that you can barely control?”

“I used to be, you know,” he said as he walked backwards in front of her.

As she stared at him she had to admire his beautiful face. But the smirk that was plastered on his mouth was definitely a feature she could do without.

“Really?” she said coyly. “I never heard that.”

“I’m a healer,” he said with a shrug, “You learn as you go. And at least you didn’t kill anybody.”

As she watched the shadows play across his face, she realized she didn’t know him very well at all.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Who are you really, Christian of the Somersaults?”

He grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but then the snapping of nearby branches and curses in a familiar voice ended his reply. Out of the bushes emerged Stephanie, covered in bog water and stinking.

“What in the seven hells happened to you?” asked Christian.

Ciardis came over to tentatively touch what looked like slime dripping from Stephanie’s shoulders. She hastily pulled her finger back when the woman looked at her with a face that said she’d bite her finger off if it came one more inch closer.

“I fell in a swamp looking for the two of you,” she snapped.

“Oh,” said Ciardis guilty.

“Told ya,” said Christian. “People will worry.”

Ciardis sighed and pointed west. “There’s a clearing about three minutes’ walk west of here. There’s a brook nearby where you can clean your clothes.”

Stephanie gave her look bordering on crazy. Ciardis could physically see the struggle cross Stephanie face on whether she wanted to be clean or take out the dirtiness on Ciardis. Apparently her desire to be clean overrode the desire to hurt Ciardis for forcing her out into the woods in the first place. And so they began walking, Ciardis in the lead until they heard the sound of a babbling brook. Stephanie didn’t even wait until Christian and Ciardis were on the other side of the running water to start discarding her clothes. She took a bar of soap out of knapsack and dumped the tunic and pants in the water.

Before Ciardis disappeared on the other side of the shrubs into the open glade, she noted a curious tattoo on Stephanie’s lower back. Before she could investigate further, she was pulled into the clearing by Christian, who chided, “You really should ask to look at a girl’s goods first.”

Ciardis gave him a droll look and rolled her eyes.

Walking into the center and trying to forget the attack by the Shadow Mage, she asked him, “So what’s the tattoo?”

Christian looked up at her in surprise. “How would I know?”

“I thought you were lovers,” Ciardis said with a furious blush as she dipped her head.

He laughed. “No, we’d bicker night and day if we were. Kill each other in a week at most.”

She looked at him curiously.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he assured. “We get along fine. In semi-small doses. We’re good at watching each other’s backs and under orders.”

“Orders from whom?”

“Now that you’d have to ask Stephanie.”

“Ask me what?” came the question from behind them. Stephanie stood there redressed in a clean tunic and pants. She must have had a spare in her knapsack.

“Whom do you take your orders from?”

“Whom do you think?”

Ciardis fought not to get angry; it didn’t really serve any purpose.

With a sigh, she said, “The Shadow Council?”

Stephanie smirked at her and started brushing her wet hair. “But who runs the Shadow Council?”

Deciding that she could play this game Ciardis walked over to Stephanie, “You said you told the council about me and what happened with the Duchess of Carne. So they have to be in the city?”

She said it as a question and was delighted when she saw a surprise of confirmation flash on Stephanie’s face.

Ciardis grinned and held up two fingers. “Secondly, they have to be well connected. Enough to have a torturer on their payroll and spies in the courts.”

Stephanie didn’t say anything, but she stopped brushing her hair.

“And three, they have to be mages,” Ciardis ventured as she looked over at Christian, “because the two of you are. If they have runners with this much power, then the head person needs to surpass you.”

Christian crossed his arms and smiled. “Very good, little mage. Now who would you guess?”

“Christian,” Stephanie hissed.

“No,” said her partner as he waved his hand, contemplating the girl in front of him. “You started this. Let her finish.”

But they didn’t get the chance. The ground began to rumble and they stumbled backwards as it continued to shake. Ciardis, Stephanie, and Christian hurried to get closer together and figure out what was going on. In front of them the earth began to bulge until a large mound had formed. With one last rumble the mound, at least three feet high, cracked, and out of it poured shadows. Individuals and groups, shapes and objects, dozens came forth out of the darkness. In the center of the moving pit of shadows, a large one began to rise. It smoothed into a human shadow and then a line appeared down the front.

Out of the center stepped a man: the Shadow Mage.

And behind out of the shadows came another man—the one she seen one sunny day in Jovelin’s bookshop. The man with the golden Weathervane eyes.

“Hello, Sister,” he said politely.

If Stephanie and Christian were startled, they didn’t show it.

This didn’t look good.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’ll be doing the talking for now,” said the Shadow Mage with an unpleasant smile.

“You see, my friend here is a Weathervane. One of only two in existence,” he said congenially. “By the looks on your friends’ faces, they have known about it. By the look on yours, my dear, you didn’t.”

“Is that why you tried to kill me the other day?” Ciardis asked softly. “So your friend would be the only one?”

The Shadow Mage laughed. “Well, no. That was merely a side bonus.” The forest around them and even the brook was silent as the world fell away and all Ciardis could look at was the male Weathervane standing in front of her.

How could there be another? And why is he helping this evil man?

The Shadow Mage glanced between the two and said somewhat sympathetically, as if he had read her very thoughts, “Oh, but you see he has no choice. Show her the bracelet.”

The Weathervane stood silent and lifted his arm to pull back his sleeve to reveal the bracelet. His arm trembled with the effort, as if he hadn’t wanted to but was forced to reveal the cuff on his arm.

It was a wide silver band. Plain in nature, circling his wrist in a perfect sheet of metal. It was molded to his skin and didn’t look like it would come off over his wrist. Not easily.

“That bracelet controls his movements and his powers. It has done so for his entire life.”

And then he smiled. “And whoever controls the bracelet controls
him
.”

Pain and anger crossed the male Weathervane’s face, but he didn’t argue with any of the facts.

“If there were another Weathervane I would have known,” protested Ciardis. “And they’d never be chained, like you’re saying.”

The Shadow Mage looked at her with something akin to pity, “I believe you believe that. And that is what’s so sad, little Weathervane. Do you know who ordered this?”

“Enough,” Christian hissed as he stepped forward. “If you want to kill us, kill us then. No need for this torture.”

“This will be through when I say it’s through,” the Shadow Mage said calmly while looking at Ciardis’s shaken face.

Christian interrupted again and suddenly there was a shadow creature behind him that forced him to his knees with its blade at his throat. Stephanie moved to help him and shadows quickly sprouted out of the ground, this time in the form of vines. They pulled her feet out from under her and bound her arms behind her back with thick, dark ropes.

At the Shadow Mage’s imperceptible nod, the creatures put thick black layers of shadow over both Christian and Stephanie’s mouths.

“Now, little Weathervane, where were we?”

“Ah, yes,” he continued in giddy excitement. “The shackle on his wrist, pretty though it is, was ordered by your emperor. But don’t think your precious prince didn’t know about it. Oh, he knows, and it serves him well.”

Ciardis wanted to shout and scream and deny it all.