The Paladin Caper (7 page)

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Authors: Patrick Weekes

BOOK: The Paladin Caper
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When they were alone, Cevirt looked over across the table, his face unreadable. “How are you doing, Pyvic?”

Pyvic nodded at the question. “As well as can be expected, sir.”

“I miss her, you know,” Cevirt said.

Pyvic forced a smile. “I didn’t imagine you wouldn’t, sir.”

“Loch was her father’s daughter. If she were still alive, she’d’ve been at this table this morning helping children who can barely afford shoes get a decent education.”

“Technically, if she were still alive, she’d be in an Imperial prison, sir.”

Cevirt chuckled. “Not the first time she’d broken the rules to do what she thought had to be done.” His smile faded. “I helped her enlist, you know.”

Pyvic gathered the papers on the table up and rapped them together to even out the edges. “She never told me that.”

“Her father was furious with me. It was weeks before he’d even speak to me,” Cevirt said, toying with the ring of office he wore on one thumb. “Even he saw the truth eventually, though.”

“Sir?”

“She was going to join no matter what he wanted. With my help, she got in as a scout, with enough people knowing she was a nobleman’s daughter that they gave her a chance.” Cevirt’s hands had locked together tightly enough to bleed the color from the pads of his fingers, but his voice stayed mild as he added, “Not a perfect chance, mind you. A woman and an Urujar, so she was never going to be a general, but with my backing, even the oldest, whitest officers couldn’t completely ignore her talent.”

“As hard as they tried,” Pyvic, a former scout captain himself, added, and Cevirt laughed again.

“I helped her then, and I helped her with her mad scheme to rob Archvoyant Silestin, against my better judgment. If she were alive,” Cevirt added, with no particular emphasis, while taking the papers from Pyvic, “I’d probably be trying to help her now.”

Pyvic stood. “If she were alive, I’m sure that would be a great comfort, Archvoyant.”

“Heflin wouldn’t drop a road collapse in casual conversation unless it were going to blow up in my face sooner rather than later,” Cevirt added. “I hope it’s not something we need to worry about, and if there’s an investigation in the matter, I’ll want to hear your perspective before making any hasty decisions. Kahva for the road?”

“Ah no, thank you, sir,” Pyvic said, and left as quickly as was reasonably possible to grab the message crystal in his desk and find out what in Byn-kodar’s hell Loch was doing.

The airship was
very
fast and
very
smooth and
very
expensive. The dinner selection was quite good for airship food. Westteich slept well in a bed with sheets almost as fine as those at his estate.

When he woke up, took in breakfast and kahva, and strolled out to look over the railing, he was surprised to find that they were in mining country.

“Ah,” he said to Commander Mirrok, who had evidently been watching by the rail all night. He did not have the ax, as far as Westteich could see. “I thought we’d be going somewhere with people.”

Mirrok said nothing, and Westteich looked out at the great red-striped canyon that cut across the land like a glancing blow from a god. “Sunrise Canyon, I believe?”

“Yes,” Mirrok said.

“As I recall, that’s where the Forge got a fair number of the crystals to make Hunters. Must have people in the mine.”

“You should be cautious,” Mirrok said. It had not looked over at him. “The agents of the ancients would have enslaved you.”

Westteich smiled at the Hunter’s idea that he might have forgotten that fact and wondered where the ax Arikayurichi might be at that moment. “That was the moment I was more committed than ever to the cause of the ancients, Mirrok. Do you know why?”

“No,” Mirrok said.

“This Republic used to
mean
something, Mirrok. The settlers from the Old Kingdom came here because their original home was stagnant, and this was their chance to prove their worth. Now the
Republic
is stagnant.” He shook his head. “We make treaties with the Empire instead of fighting them back. We keep throwing good coin at schools instead of letting the people who
care
get their own tutors. I expect Archvoyant Cevirt will be trying to strip even more power from the nobles, just so that no peasant’s feelings get hurt by hearing me called ‘my lord.’ We’re so busy trying to be
nice
, Mirrok, that we’re hiding the truth.” He smiled, looking down at the canyon full of dirt and crystal and opportunity. Mirrok didn’t ask what Westteich meant, but that was all right. “Some people are just
better
than others.”

“You believe that the weapons of the ancients will acknowledge your superiority,” Mirrok said. It was not quite a question.

“I don’t intend to give them a choice,” Westteich said, and laughed. “I’ve finally found people who expect nothing less than the best. I can only hope they’re ready for me.”

“Well said.” The voice came not from Mirrok, but from the ax riding at Mirrok’s hip. It had been there all along, hidden beneath the fold of Mirrok’s cloak. Westteich wondered if the ax had hidden himself deliberately, and then decided that it didn’t really matter. “We have little use for those who are afraid to be bold, Lord Westteich,” Arikayurichi added, “and I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

“Then why are you sending me to manage affairs at a mine?” Westteich asked. The ax
had
just said that he wanted boldness, after all.

Arikayurichi laughed. “The mine manages itself quite well. The workers have an excellent safety record, and I can only imagine how much they would detest a lord coming in to tell them how to do their jobs.”

Westteich thought for a moment. “The processing center. This is where raw crystal is prepared for shipping and separated into the different ores that can hold various enchantments . . .”

“This is the most magically rich spot in the Republic,” Arikayurichi said. “Do you know why it is called the Sunrise Canyon?”

“The red stripes on the walls, I had assumed,” Westteich said. “The paintings show them lighting up quite nicely when the sun hits them, and . . . that probably isn’t the actual reason.”

“Not too long ago, the Champion of Dawn defeated the Champion of Dusk,” Arikayurichi said as the airship began to descend into the canyon. “In doing so, he fulfilled his part of the prophecy, ensuring that this world would move into day and not the terrible endless night of the Glimmering Folk.”

The airship sank past the bright-red stone of the canyons.

“And every dawn,” Arikayurichi finished, “needs a sunrise.”

The last airship Loch’s team had stolen had been a sleek Republic military craft that Kail had, over many objections, named
Iofegemet
. Their
current
airship had been stolen from a minor lord’s second-best shed several weeks ago outside Ros-Aelafuir after they’d finally gotten the information they needed about the Forge of the Ancients. The airship had no flamecannons, minimal barriers, and a top speed roughly equivalent to a brisk walk.

The morning after their escape from whatever the agents of the ancients had brought to hunt them, Loch and the others were sitting in the unnamed airship when Kail sighed, banged the console, and said, “We’re gonna need to put in for repairs.”

Loch nodded, running a finger down the length of her new dragon-headed cane sword. She’d kept it stashed back in the little town, given that dragon-headed cane swords with rubies for eyes tended to be memorable in the minds of potential witnesses later. “Desidora, progress with the tracking crystal?”

Desidora shut her eyes and paled briefly. The wood of the deck around her went black, with the little knots taking the shape of tiny silver skulls. “It’s no longer moving. At a guess, they’re at their destination.”

Loch grimaced. “Kail?”

“It’s a need, not a want. Wards are . . . there’s something in how they’re tweaked that is
probably
not bad until it suddenly is.”

“Airship wards have multiple redundant power cycles based on prime-numerical values,” Hessler chimed in, “and the more ward-crystals fail, the fewer multiples are active to keep wards constantly available. Eventually, for example, if you’re down to a seven-second ward and a thirteen-second ward, then every ninety-one seconds, both will be—”

“While your intent is clearly to provide information, I am only becoming more alarmed,” said Icy, who was seated on the deck in an uncomfortable-looking twisted-up meditation pose.

“Yes,” Tern added from the railing, where she was determinedly not throwing up.

“So we need to stop,” Loch said to Kail.

“Well, not in ninety-one seconds,” Kail said, glaring at Hessler, “but yeah. Even if we didn’t have your problem with wind-daemons deciding they wanted to kill you, there’s a small chance that a bird will fly into the balloon right when Hessler’s bad thing is happening.”

“Right.” Loch got to her feet and spun the cane sword thoughtfully. “Kail, find us a salvage yard. Desidora, if the crystal is stopped, get us a location. Ululenia?”

Yes, Little One?
came a voice in Loch’s head from a spot off in the distance where a white falcon circled lazily.

“Please make sure no birds hit this tub at ninety-one seconds.”

Hessler cleared his throat. “It was an
example
!”

“She knows, baby,” Tern said reassuringly.

“Got a ping on a salvage yard,” Kail said, squinting at the control console. “About an hour ahead. I
think
this is an easy repair.”

Loch paced for most of the next hour, with the exception of a bit where her message crystal pinged. Then she listened to her boyfriend mention that the destruction of the Forge of the Ancients was making waves, and someone might want an investigation. Then she paced some more, spinning her new cane and getting the feel for its balance.

“Hey, Captain,” Kail said as she passed by, “you know you can actually give people coins in order to legally
purchase
a sword?”

Loch grinned. “Why would anyone ever do that when the bad guys keep giving up theirs?”

Kail’s voice went slightly quieter, not completely a whisper, but low enough that it wouldn’t carry. “You know, if even
Pyvic
is saying that maybe tipping your hand about being alive is dangerous . . .”

Loch turned to the railing and looked down at the slow meandering of the world below. “He said no such thing.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” said Kail, “I am incapable of reading inflection and inferring someone’s intent like a normal human adult. Would you like me to use my illusion magic to do something impressive?”

“I can
hear
you,” Hessler called over.

“We weren’t going to draw a real target without doing something to get their attention,” Loch said.

“I think blowing up the place where they make the Hunters might have done it.”

“We had to be
sure
.” Loch looked over at Kail. “We don’t know when the ancients are supposed to return. We don’t know how much time we have. We needed a target, and we needed it now.”

“And it sounds like we’ve got one,” Kail said, jerking his head over toward Desidora, who sat near the back of the ship surrounded by a ring of silver skulls and ropes that had for some reason become glittering chains. “But so do
they
, Captain.” Now he
did
whisper. “They aren’t Silestin, who didn’t even know who you were until we had our hands in his pockets. They aren’t the elf, who leaves smug little poems and plays thief-against-thief with you. They knew everybody’s names, Captain.”

“So they know how we work,” Loch said. “We change our play, they move just like we want them to.”

“Not what I mean.” Kail looked over from the console and gave Loch a hard look. “What’s the first thing you taught me when I joined the scouting unit?”

“Fight the enemy, not their people.” And then Loch got it. “Ah.”

“Westteich was never a scout, so I’m guessing his team doesn’t follow that one . . . and some of us have family that didn’t try to kill us recently,” Kail said. “Just a thought.”

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