The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) (36 page)

“No, you don’t.” Captain Thelenea gave Loch a flat-eyed look.

Loch tried not to smile. “I am pained at the necessity, then?”

Captain Thelenea sighed. “For your sake, Urujar, I hope you either play well enough to win or poorly enough to lose before Irrethelathlialann tires of my rules.” She fixed Loch with a look. “I recommend caution.”

“It is appreciated.”

“You are welcome to enjoy a complimentary cabin on the passenger deck. It should be large enough for you, your servant, and any other servants my crew might have mistakenly missed during check-in . . . since they came in through the hole in the side of my ship.” Captain Thelenea picked up the card with the tournament rules on it, twirled it through her fingers, and then flicked it away so quickly that the card stuck in the wall, quivering. “Now, it is my solemn hope that you feel free to get the hell out of my quarters.”

Loch got the hell out of her quarters.

“So the good news,” said Kail to nobody in particular, “is that we know who made all the zombies.”

He was piloting the now significantly damaged
Iofegemet
toward Heaven’s Spire. With luck, a good headwind, and no further disintegration of the main deck, they could reach the floating capital city soon.

Icy and Pyvic were doing what they could to repair the shattered deck and burned railing, while Desidora leaned against a non-burned section of railing looking moody and contemplative.

“I don’t suppose we know what she is, exactly?” Kail added.

“Naga,” Desidora said without looking back from the railing. “Very powerful. Most of their magic is tied to the voice.”

“Didn’t figure it was tied to her arms, what with her being a snake and all.” Kail took a reading and adjusted course slightly. “So we kill her, we stop the zombies, right? No more war with the Empire, everybody calms down.”

“Just like they calmed down after Heaven’s Spire scorched several acres of farmland with a blast of fire from the sky?” Pyvic asked, pulling a plank into place and then rolling his eyes as Icy drove a nail into the plank with the palm of his hand to secure it.

“We were unable to locate a hammer,” Icy said by way of explanation, driving another nail in, “except Ghylspwr, who was somewhat insulted by the suggestion that he be used to drive in nails, and yes, I concur with your assessment. The Republic will continue its offensive, and the Empire, if indeed it had no hand in these attacks, will defend itself from perceived aggression.”

“Why do you say
if
?” Pyvic grabbed another plank.

Icy was silent for a moment as he drove another nail into place. Finally, he looked over at Desidora. “Are my concerns groundless?”

“No.” She still didn’t look back.

Kail looked from Icy to Desidora, and then at Pyvic, who shrugged. “Care to share?”

“The body is composed of energy centers,” Desidora said, “called chakras. There are . . . well, the exact number depends upon how you classify them—”

“Seven,” said Icy.

“Of course, that is the commonly agreed-upon number, plus some ancillary energy centers that may or may not—”

“Or simply seven,” said Icy, “since I have been meditating since the age of five and am well-versed in chakras.” He turned to Kail. “Fairy creatures are tied to one of the chakras in ways that may or may not be evident. Ululenia manifests her abilities through the brow, or third-eye, chakra.” He touched his forehead. “Shenziencis manifests hers through the throat chakra.”

“That fits with her using people’s words against them,” Pyvic said. “What’s the problem?”

“The chakras at the top or base of the spine tend to radiate outward,” Desidora said, “while those closer to the middle of the body stay closer. It makes sense for Ululenia to be able to affect minds at a distance, since her magic manifests through the brow.”

Kail nodded slowly as he got it. “But those undead attacks have been happening over at the border while naga-lady has been out here attacking us.”

“We know she’s involved somehow.” Pyvic stood up, dusting sawdust from his knees as he did. “I’m inclined to take her down first and try to determine how she increased her effective control range later.”

“Assuming that whatever extends her power does not also make it impossible for us to take her down.” Desidora’s voice held a hint of bitterness. “If I were—”

“Does Tasheveth
ever get tired of your ‘If I were still a death priestess’ thing?” Kail asked. “I’m just asking for her. The rest of us are great with it.”

“Kail.” Pyvic gave him a look. “Uncalled for.”

“I’m sorry,” Desidora said after a long, quiet moment. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I let Silestin hurt you. I should have seen that he was using the
lapiscaela
to bind the souls of prisoners in the Cleaners. I should have read it in your aura and broken the binding upon you before Silestin ever used it.” She turned to him, then, and her voice caught. “But I didn’t. I missed it.”

“Lo and behold,” Kail said, “being a death priestess doesn’t magically solve everything.”

She blinked, forced a smile, and looked away. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I have the hammer.”

Icy coughed. “The one piece of information we do have regarding Shenziencis is that she has served as attendant at the Temple of Butterflies for as long as anyone can remember. If she was the Queen of the Cold River, then her presence at the temple may predate the Empire.”

“The temple is older than the Empire itself?” Pyvic asked, and Icy nodded.

“Like Heaven’s Spire, it was left behind by the ancients.”

“Speaking of Heaven’s Spire,” Kail said, checking his control console for the third time, “we may have a situation.”

Pyvic looked over. “What’s wrong with Heaven’s Spire?”

“I’ll let you know,” said Kail, gesturing out at the empty sky ahead of them, “as soon as we find it.”

The cabin that Captain Thelenea had provided was a spacious multi-roomed suite with a full bar. Loch imagined that somewhere, Kail was seething with jealousy and not knowing why.

“We were just lucky Ululenia was able to give us the auras,” Tern said. She was sitting in an overstuffed chair that seemed to be made from living wood and a lot of very expensive moss, stirring a bright-pink drink with her straw. “The plan got thrown a bit with us here instead of Desidora.”

“Have you seen the plan?” Dairy asked. He sat on the edge of the bed, drinking milk. Loch supposed that some things didn’t change.

“I was given to understand that it included a number of contingencies,” Hessler said from behind Tern, and Dairy looked at him, then at Loch, and laughed despite himself.

“We’re good until either the tournament ends . . . or I do.” Loch took a sip of an elven white wine that was a little too sweet for her, closer to a dessert wine than she liked, but apparently one couldn’t get a good red in the Elflands for love or money. “The tournament starts tomorrow, and as long as it’s running, there’ll be a crowd in the main hall. That gives the rest of you plenty of time to hit Irrethelathlialann’s room before I run out of chips.”

“How can you be certain he has it in his room,” Ululenia asked, “instead of in the captain’s safe?” She lounged on the massive bed, twirling a flower through her fingers, drinking nothing for a change.

“The captain and our elf aren’t on the best of terms, apparently.” Loch sipped the too-sweet wine again. “She’s not happy that he brought trouble onto her ship, and I don’t see her agreeing to store more trouble in the ship’s safe.”

“That’s a little weak,” Ululenia said.

“So are the drinks, but this is the only way we get them,” Loch said, and raised her wineglass. “If it’s not in the room, we look at the safe, but the room’s easier.”

Ululenia didn’t look happy, but she nodded nevertheless.

“How are you going to keep yourself in the tournament?” Tern asked, and everyone looked at her. She pointed at Loch with a straw. “Hey,
I
didn’t sign up for a tournament with a five-thousand-chip bounty on my head. I assume you can take the idle rich, no problem, but some of these players are here
just
for this tournament, as it’s one of the biggest ones they do this year. They’re professionals!”

“You can’t cheat,” Ululenia said, still twirling the flower through her fingers with her eyes closed. “Half the people playing will be fairy creatures. The main hall will have wards in place to prevent anyone from reading a player’s mind, and I imagine they’ll have illusion magic locked down as well.”

“I’ve played a few hands of
suf-gesuf
in my time,” Loch said. “I’ll stay alive until you have the book.”

“What about me?” Dairy asked, finishing the last of his milk and setting the glass down hard on the table.

“What
about
you, kid?” Hessler asked after an awkward moment of silence.

“I can’t open locks or break wards. I can’t pick pockets. I don’t even lie very well.” Dairy balled one hand into a fist, glaring at the floor. “I defeated Bi’ul, so the world is safe. There’s no more prophecy anymore, so why am I even
here
?”

Loch looked at Ululenia, but the unicorn was suspiciously silent. Hessler didn’t jump in, either.

“You’re here because you wanted to be on our side,” Loch finally said. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something for you to do.”

Dairy swallowed. “Because you feel sorry for me?”

“Because you’re one of us,” Tern said, and Loch saw her elbow Hessler with her good arm. “For now, you’re getting Loch drinks during the tournament. Nobody gambles well when they’re thirsty.”

Loch raised her glass of too-sweet wine to Tern, then finished it off. “That’ll do for a start.”

Eighteen

L
ADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND
beings to whom gender classifications
do not apply,” Captain Thelenea said from the main stage, “it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Elflands Classic
Suf-Gesuf
Tournament. Play begins in five minutes. Anyone not ready to play at that time will forfeit their place in the tournament.” She glanced through the crowd at Loch as
she said
it, and Loch cracked a smile and nodded slightly.

“You look very nice, ma’am,” said Dairy.

“Thank you.” The treeship staff had helpfully provided a change of clothes for Loch. Evidently the sword was worth enough for them to feel guilty taking it as the buy-in. She’d changed into a simple white blouse with loose flowing sleeves, and a burgundy skirt slit high enough to let her walk comfortably. “I thought I might stand out less this way than if I were wearing riding leathers.”

Dairy coughed. “You’re not going to, ah, tear parts of your clothes off again, like you did at the Archvoyant’s ball, are you?”

Loch smirked. “I’ll try to avoid it.” Most of the players wore hats or spectacles, anything that would hide their expressions. “Where are we at?”

“Right over here, ma’am,” Dairy said, gesturing, and Loch made her way to one of the many round tables that filled the main hall. They were lined with thin moss instead of felt, and the chairs were made from thin green wood that flexed oddly when she sat down.

“Isafesira de Lochenville?” The dealer was narrow-faced even for an elf, and one of the crystals in his cheek had been cut out, leaving a thin scar. The other glowed angry red.

“That’s me.” Loch smiled.

The dealer didn’t. He slid over a stack of chips as other players sat down at the table. “We crossed over into the Elflands, which means we’re playing by elven rules.” He looked around the table, glaring at everyone about equally. “For those unfamiliar with the system, that means that a flush is not a valid hand, but a concordance is, and holds a similar rank, just above a straight and below four of a kind. That would be four numbered cards, one from each suit, with different numbers showing, plus a single face card that must come from one of your two hidden cards. We also do not recognize a full house as you do when playing by Republic or Imperial rules, counting it only as three of a kind. Does anyone have any questions so far?”

Loch looked at the other players. One was an elven woman whose face was obscured by a feathered half-mask. Her hair was cropped short, as though she’d seen military service. Next to her was a fat dwarf wearing an enormous floppy hat. Next to
him
was the Imperial man she’d flirted with earlier, still wearing his smoked spectacles, and next to him was Baron Lechien, her noble defender.

The last seat was empty.

The dealer glared at them all for a moment, letting the silence drag out, and then continued. “Four shared cards, two open, two hidden. Three rounds of betting, once after the first two shared and the redraw, then on the third shared, and finally on the fourth. The maximum raise is listed here.” He jabbed a thin, ash-stained finger at a board by his seat at the table. “It increases along with the minimum ante every half hour. We play with a half-hour break every two hours, until few enough players remain that we can form a finals table. Now, and for the last time, any questions?”

Princess Veiled Lightning slid into the last empty seat. “My apologies for my tardiness,” she said, flashing them all a thin smile.

“You are of course forgiven,” the dealer said sourly, and shoved the chips her way.

“Glad you could make it,” Loch said.

Veiled Lightning glanced over. “You play games while innocent people die on both sides of this fight.”

Loch raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman who just sat down to join us.”

“I heard about your bounty. I thought I might earn a little money as long as I am here.”

“Earning money must be a nice change for you, princess. Earn enough, and they might let you buy back the Nine-Ringed Dragon. I had to use it for collateral.”

Little bits of moss peeled away from the table under Veiled Lightning’s fingernails. “You—”

“If you two ladies are finished,” the dealer growled, “perhaps we might all play a hand or two of
suf-gesuf
.”

“I was just waiting for you to deal. Dairy?” Loch slid a chip into the center of the table with everyone else. “I do believe I’m going to need something stronger than wine.”

Tern peeked around the corner and looked down the luxury-deck hallway. “Clear.”

“Unless they are invisible or shapeshifted into something small you are overlooking,” Ululenia said from behind her.

Tern looked over her shoulder and glared. “
Probably
clear.”

“The tournament has started,” Hessler said. “I doubt we’ll have a better opportunity.”

Tern stepped out around the corner and walked down the hallway with as much confidence as she could muster. The carpet looked like grass but felt more like thick, spongy moss beneath her feet. It damped the impact of her boots on the ground, which was unfortunate, because she felt like a little confidence-stomping could have made her feel better right then.

She reached the door to the elf’s room. It was locked with a more sophisticated version of the lock on their own suite, something analogous to crystal magic but based on the plant magic they used instead. It was built to respond to a leaf-key they’d been given.

“This’d be a lot easier if the elves would just use crystals like the rest of us,” she muttered. “Cloak me.”

“I don’t think they can,” Hessler said, throwing the cloak up around Tern. “Loch said something about it back in Jershel’s Nest. The elf seemed to imply that his people specifically avoided crystal-based magic in favor of such ungainly and unpredictable—”

“The magic of nature is not unpredictable,” Ululenia cut in. “It is simply less abrasive. Magic based on crystals emits an aura that elves and my kind can both feel. For those like me, it feels like kinship, since we sprang forth from such magic. For the elves, however, it is an overwhelming noise that affects how they think.”

“That sounds creepy,” Tern said, using a tiny knife to test the edges of the lock. “Could you have maybe softened that with a metaphor about trees or flowers or something?”

“As the wolf cannot think when dropped into a vat of perfume,” Ululenia said dryly.

“Okay, close enough. Oh, ew. Most locks don’t spit sap all over my picks.”

“I suppose that explains why they’re so reclusive,” Hessler said, lowering his voice as an elven servant came around the corner. Everyone stayed still until the servant opened a door down the hall and went inside. “In any good-sized city, there are enough crystal artifacts to affect how they think.”

“What do you think that’s like?” Tern rubbed a bit of sap off her pick, then slid it in. She felt the edge of
something
that was probably the bit that reacted to the leaf-key, and while the specifics were completely alien to her, there were only so many ways to keep a door closed. “Is it like being really drunk, or like chewing some of the berries they tell you not to chew in gardening classes?”

The others were silent behind her.

“Gardening classes?” Hessler finally said.

“Mother thought that if I had something to do with my hands, I might be less interested in mixing chemicals and picking locks. And speaking of the former, I’m about done trying this thing.” She produced a vial from one sleeve and small case of powder from one of her many dress pockets. “You’re going to want to back up a bit. The smoke really stings your eyes.”

“You realize they’ll know that someone broke into the elf’s suite,” Hessler said.

“That was probably a given as soon as the lock started oozing sap,” Tern said, and sprinkled a bit of the powder into the vial. She sealed the vial, shook it, and reached into another pocket for a pair of tongs. Using her good arm, she put the vial in the tongs, and then held it to the lock. “Knock, knock.”

The lock hissed and crackled and blackened as the acid ate through the vial, then it. In a few moments, that whole section of door was a smoking mess. Tern grinned. “No lock I can’t beat.”

“You ate through the lock with acid,” Hessler said.

“I probably would’ve gone for picking it had I not been still weak from being shot in the chest with a crossbow bolt because
somebody
gave them aiming support.”

“And the acid absolutely counts as a win,” Hessler added.

“Glad to hear it.” Tern kicked the door open.

“I’m so pleased you could join us,” said a very large red-bearded man in a chair in the middle of the room, fingers steepled, as elves on either side of the door drew swords.

Captain Nystin got off the airship in Ros-Oanki with nothing left.

His men were either dead or in custody. The new recruits would be explaining to a team of justicars that this had all been part of a covert operation. The veterans would be sitting silently, waiting for a release order that would never come.

Nystin had served the Republic for a good quarter of a century. He’d killed his share of daemons and worse. He’d fought wars that earned no medals and would appear in no history books, all to ensure the safety of his country.

And just like that, Isafesira de Lochenville had taken it all from him.

He vanished into the crowd in the docks, a stolen cloak covering the wool shirt whose stains marked it too clearly as having been worn under armor. He had ditched the armor but kept his crystal-tipped mace and silver daggers. They could be traced, but he’d lived too long to go without some way to defend himself.

The puppeteers had a show running near the ticket office, and a larger crowd than normal had gathered around the stage. They looked angry.

“The important thing is that everyone keeps doing their part,” the manticore insisted, flapping his wings indignantly.

“Obviously, we aren’t going to win this war if we panic and stop trusting our government,” the griffon added.

“Where’s Heaven’s Spire?” someone in the crowd shouted. Nystin stopped walking and looked over casually.

“Well, a general doesn’t explain his every move to the privates,” the griffon said, stammering a little, “and I think wherever the capital city has moved to, it’s acting for the good of the Republic.”

“They’re running away!” came a yell from the crowd.

“Bring back the Spire!”

“Stand and fight!”

“Enough!” the dragon roared, sending a little ball of flame rolling out and startling the crowd into silence. “Heaven’s Spire has deviated from its normal route, yes. We have no new information at this time about where it is located, or why the Voyancy has decided to move the city.”

Nystin started walking again, eyes down, shoulders hunched. The crowd was yelling more loudly. The puppeteer would be lucky to get out of there alive.

If the Spire was gone, that would make things harder. He had go-bags dropped all across the Republic, but he had assumed that it was still worth a trip to the Spire to make one last case for himself.