by Kim Wedlock
"What's wrong with your shoulder?"
Silently cursing himself, Garon dropped his hand from his neck and spared Petra a passing glance for her concern, as terse as her tone may have been. "Something hit me as I was leaving. A sign, I think. I'm fine." He turned and looked back towards Fendale, marked over the fields by a plume of smoke that rose into a strangely perfect cloud-like wisp. Then his attention slipped onto Rathen, but before he could even form the words, his question was answered by a bleak yet intense stare readily boring into him, begging him not to ask. Garon's jaw tightened again.
He turned away. "We keep moving," he declared, already heading southwards. None delayed behind him as the vibrations continued beneath their feet.
They moved on in silence but for Rathen and Anthis's quiet mutterings over a scroll Anthis had slipped back out of one of the bags, and Eyila's occasional murmur. But they were few, and soon stopped altogether as they trekked further from the magic's reach. When Eyila had recovered just enough, Petra led her to Rathen's side and left her there while she continued on ahead to walk beside Garon. He ignored her as she looked at his shoulder, even when she began gently probing it and cleaned it with her waterskin. He walked on as if she wasn't there. But he didn't shoo her away.
Chapter 7
The sky was perfectly blue; not a tuft of cloud marred its brilliance, nor the golden sun as it climbed leisurely towards its zenith. A pleasant warmth beamed down upon Kulokhar, bathing the capital city in a comfortable stillness disrupted neither by the bustle of late-morning business nor the birdsong in the surrounding forests and gardens, while an easy patience dulled and distanced troubles.
It was, in short, a perfect summer morning.
Which went entirely unnoticed through the Arana House windows, barely ajar, open purely for the exchange of stale air for fresh in the under-used drawing room, a space itself wonderfully equipped three kelicerans past for meals on just such mornings.
The large, bright, needlessly ornate room had been neglected for the eight years since Salus had killed and replaced Elina, as was the Arana's custom, and it was only following Taliel's recent suggestion that he get out of his office more often that he'd finally deigned to utilise it. But that morning, as he and Teagan took a late breakfast, neither paid any attention to the ambience - nor, indeed, to the food, though Salus had worked through two strong pots of tea.
Finally, the keliceran released a lengthy sigh into the pensive silence and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
"The trap?" Teagan asked quietly, since the stillness had been broken anyway.
"A bracelet," Salus sighed again, his eyes red, "or something like it, belonging to the earth tribe. Meant to lure them in, looking for their own. The earth was dug out beneath it at a gradient; as soon as someone got close enough to pick it up, the ground gave out and pulled more down behind them. The ditch was also cut asymmetrically to sprain the victims' ankles on the way down."
"The water tribe used an earth tribe trap against them?"
"They tried. They'd also lined it with sharpened reeds - one of their own tricks, I'd guess."
"Who tripped it?"
"Six children." He sat forwards and reached for the teapot, but only managed to shake out half a cup. He sighed and sat back, taking the cooling tea with him. "It's the closest trap to any settlement yet, but it wasn't nearby. The children ventured too far, well beyond reasonable boundaries. Makes you wonder what constitutes as 'good parenting' these days.
"But it does serve to prove that the traps aren't always so typical. Locating them all would be a challenge, and as far as patrolling goes, the Arana is stretched thin watching Doana, other lands and the Order. We can't contain the matter, and the guards, too, are occupied with evacuations and maintaining order over the refugees and mages."
"Numbers are too sparse to reinforce," Teagan agreed, "but another evacuation will be disruptive, and for more than our own affairs."
"And there will be more at risk if there's an attack, be it Doana, mages or Koraaz..."
"Alternative?"
Salus's neck twitched. "None. It's necessary. But evacuating a city as big as Rega is no easy thing; there isn't enough room. There will be more refugee camps springing up. And we'll lose a moth cellar which will degrade the chain of contact, and a critical outpost close to the Pavise mountains, Kalokh and one of Doana's camps."
"The lepidopterist will remain behind, and the city will be locked down, but only guarded by minimal watch. The moths will not be lost."
"I suppose not, but harder to reach and that means slower news." Salus sighed and peered down into his cup. "I suppose it's just another inconvenience..."
Teagan went on to say something else, no doubt infallibly logical, but Salus didn't hear it. He was too busy counting up those ever-accumulating 'inconveniences' and the substantial hurdles those niggling little matters built up into. And most of them would have been preventable had he been armed with the right intel. Just like everything else. But with limited eyes - the Arana numbered only so many - certain things had to be prioritised. Which meant allowing other things to happen.
His fingers tensed around the teacup, which he set back on the table before he could crush it.
Five days. Five days, and surveillance spells were still no closer to being a reality, even despite the work Erran had put in with the help of an apprentice who he'd promised was up to the task. He had managed to establish the observation point and allocate a feedback, but creating a stable link between the two was proving to be sickeningly impossible while absolutely vital. And he was frustratingly aware of the fact that this evacuation couldn't have been avoided even had they been installed the very moment he'd thought of it, because the very notion of such a spell had come too late. And that was his own fault.
How much longer was this going to take? And what more would be 'allowed' to happen in the meantime?
The tribes' squabbles were moving closer and closer to civilisation and there were no signs of either side backing down or thinning out; the mages were creating problems nearly every four days, and Doana was still sitting, waiting, plotting and presumably preparing for things no one seemed willing to venture a guess at. There were threats all around them, threats within; nothing was clear on any front - except the fact that things were certainly going to get worse before they got better. And he was sat there pretending to relax in the morning sunshine, his jaw tense, back rigid and shoulders knotted into his spine. Absolutely, unquestionably, incontrovertibly wasting time.
But at least he had the minuscule comfort of knowing that, at that moment, Erran was still working on it.
A servant stepped forwards from his position against the wall. He hesitated beside the table, looking from the two to the untouched plates. A nod from Teagan permitted him to clear them away; breakfast had long since turned cold. But Salus didn't notice him, nor the careful clatter of cutlery over ceramic, nor could he recall what had even been served. His attention wandered instead towards the far window and off towards Blackbrush Forest. The summer light illuminated its well-tended edges, but it was bleak inside, dark and private.
He didn't notice silence slip in as the tinkling of his fingertips across the side of the porcelain ceased, for his mind, too, had trailed off, and he stared and lingered thoughtlessly on a memory that hung from the boughs of the thick, broad forest. For a moment, his tensions eased just a little.
Taliel.
She'd recovered the records he'd wanted - which had contained nothing useful after all - standing right where they should have been in the chronologically arranged bookcase. Somehow, he'd missed them. But he could fathom how that had happened.
He rubbed his eyes again, absorbing himself in the strangely paralytic sensation.
He'd not slept in days. He hadn't seen Taliel in days. And he wasn't sure the two weren't unrelated.
He dropped his heavy hands into his lap and stared thoughtfully down at the teapot. His gaze then shifted slowly onto Teagan, who appeared e
qually lost in thought. "Is it normal," he began ponderously, drawing back his favoured's attention, "for a woman to have such sway over a man?"
"Based on observation, it would seem so," Teagan replied coolly, "but I couldn't say from a personal standpoint. I was twenty one when you elevated me to portian. Prior to that, I'd never found anyone worth the distraction."
"Mm..." Salus tapped his chin. "The only experiences I've had have been mission requirements..." His eyes narrowed further. "Why is it, do you think, that w--" A sturdy knock at the door both cut him off and startled him, enough, apparently, to call entry on reflex. But as a seasoned phaeacian of grave bearing stepped inside, he could only groan a further regretful curse. "It's too early for this..."
But they duly pushed themselves to their feet and braced for the report, at which Salus's weariness was promptly eradicated.
As quick as lightning, his face turned vermilion. "They got away?! There were seven of you out there! Why could no one stop them?! How did they manage to kill someone?!"
"It happened quickly," the grave man explained with a calmness more suited to a phidipan, "and the ground was unfavourable--"
"Unfavourable?!" Salus closed the distance between them in a flash. The phaeacian finally twitched, but for what ground he stood, he paled instead. Salus saw it, and it both pleased and sickened him. "For your sake, you'd better have another excuse ready."
Somehow he blanched even whiter, as though all the blood had drained down to his feet and out through his toes. "D-d-distance," he sputtered, "we were spread far, we couldn't know where they would reappear, and many of us were waylaid moments after it happened, I was the only--"
"Waylaid?!" Salus bared his fangs. "By whom?"
Suddenly, the phaeacian didn't seem so eager to speak. It was only the weight of Salus's black eyes that pressed it out of him. "Ditchlings."
The walls shook with the keliceran's helpless roar, and with the slightest, most effortless movement, he threw the quivering man aside and stormed out through the door.
The room trembled in the silence of his wake. Teagan paused to help the operative back up, and though he saw absolute terror in the eyes of the man who was only a fraction older than himself, the portian did not think little of him. He was only just able to suppress the same sentiment within himself.
But while the phaeacian could remain out of reach of the keliceran's rage, Teagan was obligated to follow.
"I should have known better than to leave this in the hands of phaeacians," Salus spat as Teagan caught up with him along the stairs. Everyone was quick to step out of their way, and as usual no one looked up at them, but Teagan knew on this occasion that it was not out of respect. After eight or more footsteps, curiosity began craning necks. "Ditchlings - this isn't the first time they've made such ridiculous excuses!"
"There were four phidip--"
"Yes, but they, at least, are capable. But three phaeacians..." He snarled. "This is my fault. I should have stayed there myself - I should have known better!"
He stormed to his office, all but ripping the door from its hinges, and immediately began tearing open assignment folders, muttering about knowing exactly how to fix the problem. Teagan waited patiently to one side, but the keliceran soon hissed a vile oath. "Only phaeacians are available. I'll have to trade them out. I don't want anything less than phidipans tracking them. It's too important to leave in the hands of agents who let themselves get overwhelmed by forest children." He shook his head to himself. "Three days. They could be anywhere by now..."
Another knock sounded. Salus looked up sharply, and Teagan saw with great relief that the whites had returned to his eyes, though it made their fury chillingly clear. He barked entry, and in stepped another messenger, a far younger phaeacian with a miniature scroll in her hand. Both stiffened at the sight of it.
Rather than wait for her to brave a step forwards or for Salus to snap at her to hurry, Teagan retrieved it himself and ushered the young woman back out of the door. The scroll, tied shut by a thin leather cord, was tiny, half the length of his smallest finger, and yet it seemed to weigh as much as a brick. But Salus didn't have the patience to entertain such sentiments and unrolled it with such aggression it seemed he sought to frighten the contents into favour. The tremor of a knot in his jaw as he read suggested that it hadn't worked.
He remained still for a long while. Teagan watched him closely from his peripherals, as he had long ago learned to do. Then, he screwed up the parchment and tossed it aside. It fell lightly while he sank into a chair. Teagan waited.
"I suppose it's not surprising that this should reach us now," he mumbled, disturbingly calm, as he had been all morning. His blue eyes, steeped in thought, turned up towards him. "Koraaz and Karth are already back with the others. Someone resembling the inquisitor was seen in Trinn before the Order attacked, and our plant followed him back to Fendale where the two were waiting. But," his lip curled, "she was in no position to intervene."
"They're back in Turunda - teleportation?"
Salus grunted. "What else?" He leaned back over the assignment folders with a more tempered patience and began crossing out the recent adjustments. "But why teleport to rejoin those three and linger by the mountains rather than go straight to the Order? And why flee the attack? ...Unless the attack was meant to establish a drop point... They're heading south, probably to throw us off and give Trinn a chance to empty out - nowhere seems to be safe from them, but people have been upping and leaving anyway, looking for some kind of refuge. Then Koraaz will go back to Trinn. Coincidences don't happen, not like this." A smile flickered. "We've got them. We need more out there immediately, Trinn and the southern roads, before the dust has settled - reroute nearby mages, get onto them, pin them in, get the Zi'veyn away from them!"
"There are no mages available in the vicinity, sir, nor available to transport."
But Salus ignored his clinically delivered case. He was already scrawling across numerous parchments, muttering beneath his breath, cursing and crossing things out, then rearranging the sheets and scribbling again. He thrust several pages into Teagan's hands without raising his eyes from the desk.
"Sir, we can't reassign--"
"We can. We have the element of surprise. It will be enough." Then his hand abruptly stilled. "Unless...unless the attack was just a distraction... What if--and we are, we are distracted! How many are already making their way to Trinn? And not just us - guards, and even the White Hammer will investigate!" He snatched a map out from beneath a haphazard pile of reports, dislodging them and sending them scattering across the floor. "They're heading south. The Korovor Woodlands..." his tone flattened. "And a cluster of places the Order has already ravaged. They're going to these places - they were in Fendale. But why? It has to have something to do with that relic, it has to!" His hand began moving urgently across the parchments again. "They think they have us fooled with the attack on Trinn. That gives us the element of surprise. Reroute everyone to the forest and surround the forsaken place - every crack, crevice; anywhere unnatural! We'll fence them in!"
Another growl rumbled free and he scratched the quill through the damp ink, snatched a sheet back from Teagan and similarly adjusted it, then cursed foully and kicked the leg of the desk. "Do we have control over anything?!" He slammed the quill flat on the tabletop, spattering ink across his hand. He cursed again. "We're too tangled up; Ivaea and Kasire, tribes - even our own military is getting in the way. Too many of our people are occupied with it all."
"Sir, may I suggest--"
He lifted the quill and returned to the alterations, muttering beneath his breath.
"Sir--"
"Phaeacians. They've served well enough up until recently, before things became so complicated. If they're given clear orders, they can manage. Phidipans can be replaced and rerouted to Trinn, and a few of those can replace mages. We don't need casters everywhere, a phidipan can recognise a suspicious mage and sound the alarm. We have a clue, now - we can handle this shortly
and finally remove Koraaz as a threat. There are only so many twins our translocators are linked to, and few so far north of our borders - Dolunokh has never been a threat. But with Koraaz back in Turunda, we have far more resources at our disposal..." His quill stopped scratching, and he stared into the ink. "But pinpointing him, keeping him in our sights...he's given us the slip too many times already..."
His fist struck the table, but Teagan didn't flinch, even as his mumbling rose to a bellow. "If we had these damned spells working--it can't be this hard!"
Another knock. Salus roared. The inkwell smashed against the wall.
But when the door opened, the crimson in his face turned to rose, his shoulders dropped, and he steadied himself against the desk as though his rage had only then dawned upon him.
Teagan's eyes flicked towards Taliel and he found himself, quite possibly for the first time, grateful for her arrival. Her perpetual distraction was perfectly timed. And she had brought a suspiciously heavy file box with her.
Teagan gathered the fallen reports and placed them back on the desk. "We are stretched thin, it is true," he began temperately, "and this is a delicate issue. But we must consider the possibility that the attack may be unrelated. There has been no clear contact between Koraaz's group and the Order even before we found them in Dolunokh, and we cannot afford to withdraw from our other duties on what is presently little more than a presumption. While I agree that we shouldn't let this opportunity escape us, I urge you to think it over. It will still be dealt with just as swiftly in an hour's time."
"Yes," the suddenly subdued Salus replied, head bowed in equally abrupt exhaustion, "yes...you're quite right... Thank you, Teagan."
He inclined his head and turned away, moving for the door on silent feet as Taliel stepped in and out of his path.
"...What if he's gone rogue?"
"It looks as though Taliel has brought you lunch," he said, stepping out into the hallway without casting a look back. "I suggest you eat it."