The Tenets in the Tattoos (The King's Swordsman Book 1)

by Becky James

  Reaching out over the table, she said, “You are smart, Thorrn. Really smart. Please take the time to think things through.”

  I took her hand. “And you have good instincts. You lead well and move quickly when you need to, and you think clearly in high adrenaline situations. Please trust yourself more.”

  “And we both need to trust each other more.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, straightening up. “That will come with time, as you say. We have some time, as Waker won’t be expecting us for a while yet. How long does it usually take to get from Spiritshere to the Palais?”

  My chest eased as we shared our burden between us, as if Evyn sorted our problems into piles and I qualified them. “It varies. You cannot actually approach the Palais unless the MasterMage wants you to. There are a variety of routes to get there as well.”

  “Yeah, well,” she began, taking Rose’s map from her pocket and smoothing it out, “we can be there in…oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “It says the ping-through place for the Palais is here, but there’s a squiggly line which means approximately.” Evyn tapped toward the south-east of the map, her lips thin. Then she shrugged. “I guess we have time to investigate; we’ll be there fairly soon.” She gave a jaw-popping yawn.

  I looked around the floor. “Fancy bedding down here?”

  “I… don’t really want to sleep, Thorrn.”

  “But we need to. I can understand why you would be reluctant. I will protect you.”

  She gave me a small smile for that. “I think you’ll find we’ll protect each other.”

  I helped her drag out spare bedding from one of the closets and we bedded down in a nest of duvets and pillows amongst the humming boxes to catch a brief snatch of rest. I remembered again how we had faced off against each other in the cells. It was a miracle we had succeeded in our objective and saved anyone at all.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  “I know,” she replied. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m… I’m glad you’re not lying spiritless. I guess my point was, no one needed to be lying spiritless.” She cried then for a short period of time, and I patted her shoulder. Spent, we sank into sleep.

  A sleep of nightmares, screams echoing to us from far away. Nothing reached us to directly threaten us except a dire certainty that—

  I snapped awake and leapt to my feet, Evyn rolling and waking with a start as well.

  Ista stood in the doorway. “My apologies. I came looking for some water.”

  Evyn knuckled her eyes, staggering up. “Sure. It’s here.” I glanced at her, and my soul looked at me sideways. “It was him, wasn’t it?” she said without preamble.

  I nodded slowly.

  She looked out of the window. “Right. Let’s get moving. Forward,” she said.

  We gave Ista a tour of Evyn’s house and its amenities. Evyn arranged for something called a supermarket food delivery. “The park is here,” she explained, indicating a map of the area, “and there’s a nice walk along here. You can read what you like from my collection.”

  “We will be staying close to your home,” my mother said in her lilting Daronian accent, joining us.

  “Can we talk freely here?” Ista asked. Nodding, we led her back to the kitchen table.

  “Much of import transpires in this room,” I noted to Evyn.

  “It is the heart of the house.” She nodded for Ista to speak.

  My father’s soul companion collected herself, sitting on the edge of a chair, and I pulled out a chair for my mother. Evyn busied herself with the magical kettle as Ista spoke. “After Shard’s arrest, he told me to take the family and flee the city. I was thus occupied when I felt the bond… when Shard died.” She closed her eyes briefly, lines etched into her face. “I spurred the family to greater speed, and we were on the way to Dinahe when the barge was stopped, and we were captured.” Ista looked around the room, her jaw tight.

  “We did not know where you were, where you had gone,” my mother said in Daronian. “Now I see you were in a wondrous place with your wondrous soul.” Yston beamed at Evyn as she passed around mugs of steaming tea.

  I followed her gaze to look at Evyn, my brave, clever, indomitable soul companion. “She is exceedingly wondrous, yes,” I responded in Oberrotian.

  Confused, Evyn frowned at me, and then ducked her head, flushing.

  Sylvia and Bran ventured downstairs. It was clear that Sylvia had never been so close to violence before, but while she was shaken and bruised, she remained in good spirits. She thanked me, but I could tell she viewed me differently.

  “Well, yeah, you took a guy’s head off like it was nothing,” Evyn pointed out when I confided this concern to her, helping her to wipe and dry the mugs.

  “I’ve killed many people. Most of them deserved it. Do you see me differently because of it?” The thin towel squeaked against the mug in my hands, and I eased off the pressure.

  Evyn’s lips twisted a bit. “I don’t think so. I know you better now. It would have freaked me out before, but he seemed like he wasn’t doing a good-faith job. He was enjoying it a little too much, you know?”

  “Yes, I know. It chimes exactly with why I made the decision I made.”

  “Then yes. I understand it. I won’t say I’m ecstatic about it, but I doubt you’re feeling great about it either.” She passed me another item of wet crockery.

  “Only in the way that the threat was eliminated. One of them, anyway. That sort of thing will only increase under Torgund, and he will be dealt with when we have Gough back.” I suddenly realised that Evyn had not been there when we had met the other Evyn, and that other version had let slip the family connection. And here my family would be able to verify whether that had been just part of their world… or not.

  Hanging the mug on its hook, I resolved we would have that conversation another time. There was too much going on already.

  Evyn happily gave the family things to read and debated whether she should introduce them to the lodestone network or the “inter net”. I said it sounded like something someone could get ensnared in. Chuckling wryly, Evyn agreed.

  As Evyn and I prepared to leave, my mother said, “We will hold a vigil for your father this evening. I am sorry you cannot be with us.”

  “I hold him in my mind,” I said, my chest hurting.

  Ista cut off my misgivings. “You cannot tarry, Shardsson. You must make haste to save the king,” she said. “Shard would be the first to tell you that. Be off, and we’ll hold another one with you in time.”

  I saluted, and we left them to reunite with Ellesmere and Tuniel.

  “Back on the train,” Evyn murmured, tapping on her device as we walked through the park. I kept a lookout for obstacles, as in this posture she was liable to walk into things. “This is costing a fortune.”

  “I’m sure the king will reimburse you.”

  “Mm.” She put her handheld away and my stomach unclenched somewhat. “I meant to ask you, and I remembered seeing some on Aleric when we found him in the cells; what are your tattoos?”

  I pulled my shirt sleeve up to expose the one on my forearm and pulled my collar down to show the top of the one on my breast.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I noticed last time, when you were just ink and bruises. They’re on your forearm there, upper arm there, thighs, chest and back. It’s the same one though, right? In each place? But Aleric’s were different, I noticed.”

  “They show my military history if you know how to read them.” I brandished my forearm to show her. “This is my regimental insignia from when I was a soldier. This is the series of dots that translates to when I was promoted, and these designs are to what rank. This mark here is the transition to Special Forces, and this pattern has the date. These are the insignias of action I’ve been in where I’ve distinguished myself, and these patterns show how. There are a lot of these,” I said, with a grin.

  “Oh, so it’s commemorative?”

  “Not… exactly. If
I were to suffer a grave defeat where only fragments remained or could be recovered, the Lorekeeper in Oberrot City would be sure to send the correct remnants to my family instead of someone else’s.”

  Evyn’s face paled. “Oh. I see.”

  “It’s encoded and changed often so that enemies can’t capture and strip me and know exactly who I am and what I can do or what I might know. Only the Lorekeeper has the records that can cross-check that.”

  We boarded the bus and the train in companiable silence, sitting on a brace of seats together. When I was sure we were alone and the exertions of the train beast covered our conversation, I continued. “These tattoos represent my current status in more ways than one. The worst thing that can happen to someone from Special Forces is banishment. That involves being tossed out of the Force, but first these tattoos are removed. Usually with a flensing knife.”

  Evyn put down her handheld. “I’m almost sorry I asked, but now I’m imagining Gavain getting banished, and that’s giving me a happy feeling.”

  I smiled at that, even as my heart hurt. “At least he saved Aleric but…” I hung my head. “Can I admit something to you?” Evyn nodded. “He committed treason to save Aleric, but would not to save me.”

  Evyn sighed, shoving her handheld into her pocket with viscious force. “The Aleric bit was easy; go to the cells and look the other way. You were asking for something much more bombastic, but I get your point.”

  “All those times together. All we went through. He has tainted it all.”

  Evyn leant back in her seat. Her shoulders were tense, and she made an effort to relax them. “You can take what you need, Thorrn. My dad dying… that didn’t mean that the love he showed me all those times before was lessened. It doesn’t have to be, anyway. I can believe he loved me then, in that moment, and take that with me if I need it, and still reconcile with the fact that I wasn’t a good enough daughter for him to stay with me.”

  I reached for her hand. “It was never about you not being enough—”

  “I know. But it felt like it sometimes. And I bet that’s how you feel right now.”

  I nodded slowly. “How do you cope with it?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person, but recently I’ve tried a mantra. A way of thinking positively, you might say.”

  “Oh yes? Care to share?”

  “Sure. It’s ‘I saved Thorrn’s life and burnt his pizza.’” I smiled at that. “Try, ‘Other people’s choices are not my fault. It’s how I react to those choices that matters’.”

  Letting that sink in, I nodded. “Very well, Evyn.”

  We got back to the barge just as the daylight faded, and Evyn cast off straight away without even going inside to hail the occupants. Queen Ellesmere put her head through the hatch to find us in motion and Evyn at the helm. “Hello dear. Shall I put that hot water boiler on for you?”

  “You’re a star,” Evyn smiled.

  We updated the royals and the Journey Mage of Stone. Ellesmere spoke afterwards. “We have had a discussion here. Gadamere and I would like to be pinged through somewhere further from Spiritshere with Gough’s body. We can begin to rally up support in counterpoint to Torgund before we confront MasterMage Waker.”

  “Meanwhile Waker is sure I will deliver you to her because she has my soul companion,” Tuniel said. “If that continues or if she hurts Aubin, then I will plot to overthrow her, but for now reuniting his body and spirit and finding out what conditions will break the Thrall contract is the priority.”

  “So, we’ll go to the Palais together,” Evyn said. “I have a feeling we’ll have to ping through and walk some of the way, though.” She showed them her mother’s map and the marks around the Palais.

  “And we can practice pinging through and get better at moving together,” I chimed in.

  That’s what we did. We travelled using the engine by day and quietly at night, as Evyn said barge travel at night was frowned upon. We waved goodbye to the queen and the king’s spiritless body at the ping-through place to Tergue Hall, Ellesmere’s base of support as her home city, after installing Gough in the Queen’s Infirmary and leaving him in the best of care.

  I trained for four turns of the glass every day, paying careful attention to my form, being stricter on myself than ever before, when I had an entire contingent to comment on my shortcomings. I could only rely on myself and myself alone to correct any errors; my soul and my allies would suffer if I made any errors in a crucial moment.

  Evyn stayed at the helm and piloted our craft while Tuniel looked after Aubin inside. A large part of me screamed at my stupidity for leaving my soul alone with a mage in a barge puttering along beside me while I opened and closed the canal locks, except Evyn’s words came back to me again and again. Tuniel had had ample opportunity to avail herself of Evyn’s blood, and had not done so. Yet. Even still, as each day passed, as strange as it was to trust a mage, I found myself doing so.

  Watching her closely – for trickery, of course, not anything else – Tuniel seemed much reduced here on Earth. Every day she woke pale and nearly shaking, with hollows carved into her cheeks. She sat prim and collected, but whenever she thought I was not looking her head would lower or she would tip her head back, the delicate lines of her throat working as she fought some kind of sickness.

  One morning, I waited at the table set aside for dining opposite Aubin’s silent body. Tuniel rose late and made her quiet way from the bow where she had been billeted to check on Aubin lying on the living room bunks. She baulked when she saw me, touching her hair.

  “Well met, Journey Mage of Stone,” I said, my voice quavering. Pushing a steaming mug into the centre of the table, I redoubled my efforts to control my voice. “Here.” I winced, having practically shouted.

  Tuniel eyed the mug. “Not more Earthian tea. Anything but that bitter brew.”

  The corners of my mouth went up. “It’s not their tea. It’s a lyneal tea.”

  She frowned lightly.

  “I can see you’re… anyway.” Clearing my throat, I leant back from the table.

  She hesitated a further heartbeat before taking a seat opposite, perching herself on one of the stools. “There is a lack of magic in the air here,” Tuniel began. “I would like to be taken into Oberrot. While you practice the… pinging.” Tuniel framed the word with exactness, revealing a northern burr in some of her speech. “That way I can reconnect with the magics on the world.” She took a sip, closing her eyes briefly. Her lashes were as white as her hair, long enough to stroke her high cheekbones.

  I frowned. “And give you ample opportunity to commune with Waker?”

  Tuniel scowled. “I could do so from here. You doubt me still, and that is beginning to gall, oaf.”

  Aubin had called me oaf once, and I had deserved it. “My apologies if you are sincere, Journey Mage of Stone.” Her eyes narrowed at that. “Why… Hm.” I couldn’t find the right words. Resting my hands on the table edge, my fingers drummed lightly while I tried to think of how to frame my question in a way that would not offend her.

  Tuniel took another deep draught. “Aubin seldom requests anything of me. When he does, I attend to it,” she murmured.

  Surprised she had answered what I struggled to ask, I looked again at his spiritless form, breathing but not alive.

  “What I would not give,” she began, and I stilled, stomach churning with fear, “for a proper restorative.”

  Relief washed over me, and I let out a bark of laughter. “That I can provide. They have a substance called coffee, which mimics it enough.”

  “Thank you.”

  I inclined my head.

  Tuniel took another sip. “Where did you get the lyneal from? It reminds me of Aubin’s brew.”

  “It is.” I nodded to his jerkin, hanging up on the coat space. Tuniel’s eyes went hard. “He… isn’t using it, and surely he would… for his soul…” I shut my mouth. Tuniel stood up and left, stiff-backed. I ran my hands through my hair, then let my arms fall. Mag
es!

  As the sun set the end of each day, Evyn and I would practise pinging while Tuniel came through to do whatever it was that mages did when they flaunted the laws of nature. Evyn would open a door, and we both moved through as she opened another while closing the first one. She would be hard on herself, insisting on a straight run of ten successes before stopping for the night. This sometimes resulted in three hours of training.

  Sometimes we were able to practise on level ground in both worlds; sometimes it would be a heart-stopping drop. Evyn’s performance notably dropped off in the latter scenario and we would spend much of the time coaching her to ignore the drop or disregard it or any other number of impossible things when certain death lurks below you. We practised moving together, and I taught her the hand signals of Special Forces so I could direct her efficiently.

  But the work had a dual purpose. Evyn and I would put off sleep even though our bodies were tired, because when we slept, we heard those far-off cries of agony getting closer and closer.

  Five days since we had woken up under Spiritshere to Aubin’s spiritless body and rescued my family, and three since we had parted ways with Ellesmere, we arrived at the ping-through place Rose had marked for the MasterMage Palais, a city called Cambridge. Waker could have expected us in a sennight or more. She would be woefully unprepared for us, and we had worked hard to prepare for her.

  We had passed through areas replete with hills, but this city was level and low-lying. When Evyn took us through to sortie, I swore.

  A sheer cliff faced us, and no way for us to climb it on the Earthian side.

  Tuniel made an exasperated noise. “The MasterMage’s Palais is somewhere up there, on the mesa. Either we will have to go back to find a tall place to try pinging around, or we attempt to climb and see what the landscape is like on the other side.”

  Back on Earth, Evyn tied off the Evyn Rose at a marina along the river. “Right, so, what do we do?” she asked us.

  “We have a few options,” Tuniel began. “I can use my power to make the mesa more accommodating. Waker would likely sense that. I can tell her I am nearing. She has ordered that I do so and will make arrangements for me, but then we lose the element of surprise. We can spend time figuring out where the canals are that rise toward the Palais and travel along those. But that would take time again. Time I don’t think Aubin has.” Tuniel bowed her head. Her sickness was not just from being separated from magic in Oberrot. “I do hear him every night. I don’t want him to spend another heartbeat in that woman’s dreamland that he doesn’t have to.”