by Mark August
“The servants will come and clean this up. The floors should be scrubbed spotless. I will—”
“Please don’t. I need the room this way. I need to think about what happened.” Vedette stood close to her mother and pointed to the scars on the wall. “I need the reminder why we make hard decisions.”
“The visit with your father did not go well.”
“You already talked to him.”
“The sorceratti. Right to the point.”
“I learned a great deal since the attack. Channeling magic was just the beginning.” Vedette wondered how long they would talk around the issue. She let her mother set the tempo of the discussion.
“Useful skills for the power of our family.”
“Is that all you think about, mom?”
Her mother held her breath and then released the pressure through her nose. If only magic could let her read minds. Vedette wished she could understand the struggle between the wife of the Duke and mother of six children. She hoped her mother would win. The subtle slouch in her mother’s posture was enough to advertise she would tell the truth.
“No, Vedette. I’m a wife and a mom. I hurt inside when I see my children pushed into roles before they are ready. When they grow too fast because the world expects them to be strong, that’s difficult. But we are training you for a complex world.”
Her mother was close to her children and oversaw their education, but she was distant with her thoughts and feelings.
The sorceratti pressed with her questions. “What did dad tell you about Magi Cormac?”
“Very little.”
Vedette did not sense a change in her mother's breathing or heart rate. Truth. At least a partial one. “Then, why the prison?”
“I believe he already answered your question. And that was before he told me his plans.”
Truth.
“The chains scare me, mom. What if he used those chains on a sorceratti? Dad finished them at the time of the attack. He used them fast, like it was already part of a plan.”
“That shocks you?”
“I have to know more.”
“I would expect no less from the Atros sorceratti.”
Her mom's pride glowed from within. All true.
“Dad might get mad at me if I investigate those plans. I might find things I don’t like or agree with.”
“Vedette, if you discover what is happening with this plot, please share with me. Too much is happening now that went beyond anything your father anticipated. This is bigger than our house and bigger than our city. I can help you. Remember, he came by to encourage you to look into this.”
Surprisingly true and empty of an agenda.
Vedette released the magic and went back to the young girl standing in a room with her mother. For the first time since the attack, Vedette gave in to her emotions and found comfort in her mom’s waiting arms. They were warm and welcoming to a daughter in need. This was better than being a sorceratti.
“Let’s start by picking up your room.”
The afternoon with her mother picking up smashed furniture and scorched books was a pleasant experience. Dozens of servants could have done the work in less than an hour, but the time with her mother was different. Livia Atros didn’t judge her daughter other than a young woman now mature beyond her years. The time together was more important than the cleanliness of the room. They saved the scorch marks on the walls and floors for the servants, but her time with her mother would last a lifetime.
Vedette’s thoughts were clear, and her emotions were under control. She’d trust her mom. Vedette needed to go back to the prison.
Eighteen
Attius - City Council
The Lord of House Atros ate his lunch alone in the Great Hall. The suits of elaborate armor, the elegant weapons, the flowing tapestries, and the finest food: all symbols of the family’s power. None of these belongings comforted his conscience for the decisions that lay ahead.
The City Council session started after the lunch hour, and the questions he avoided for a week would dominate the agenda. Word of the attack was out. A household of this size, even with the demands of strict loyalty, wouldn’t hold secrets.
His mind cycled through opening remarks about the attack and the threat to the other families. He considered warning them of attacks on their own sorceratti. But his intelligence experts didn't advise this course of action. Bold strokes might replace careful words. His mind was indecisive.
Attius considered his rigorous education in his climb to power. His father, also one of the city's elected Dukes, provided the finest tutors and unparalleled experiences to educate him in the lessons of power. Where others longed for their chance to make a difference, Attius seized each opportunity with confidence.
Attius Atros was destined for power. His father wanted him ready to rule from day one. But training and education could not prepare an individual for every conceivable situation. Education provided guidance, but unexpected events demanded the leader’s best effort. Each day carried its own challenges.
This challenge confronting his family was unlike any in the city’s history. What if one or more of the ruling house no longer had a sorceratti? The delicate balance codified in formal agreements could collapse without the foundation of equality.
Formal treaties between the families kept the peace for three decades. The fight in his daughter’s room and imprisonment of the magi in his dungeon changed everything. Events changed his strategy, and the new trajectory was outside his control. Somehow, he needed to formulate a new plan.
All this ran through his mind as the meal disappeared from his plate. He didn’t notice the flavor in each bite or the taste of his wine as he calculated potential strategies.
The Duke smiled as he settled on a course of action. He pulled on his belt and clipped in his sword, not his ceremonial blade. To balance the weight on the other side, he grabbed his flintlock pistol. Attius looped his weapon at his right hip. The image of an armed Duke in the city chambers would be appropriate.
His personal boat whisked him through the side canals and then to the Great Pier. A personal guard waited for the Duke as he strode from his transportation. The clock tower edged toward the heavens and let out its peal of time. The City Council building was a three-story structure set off from the others by elaborate arches, stained glass windows, and simple white paint.
Doors to the City Council chambers reflected the wealth of the city. Gold, silver, gems, and fine woodwork graced the elaborate double doors leading to the Council's inner rooms.
Attius didn't wait for the honor guard to reach for the door handles as he grabbed the worked iron and pulled with the strength of his warrior's arms. The doors swung and bounced off the stops of the wall with a bang.
Heads turned toward the commotion as conversations stopped. He had their attention.
The guards in the room spun toward the doors. Spears dropped to the ready position to confront the unexpected threat. As the red cloak billowed out behind the approaching Duke, the guards returned their weapons to an alert position.
“Attius, it is—” Herrus Tucchi, the previous Duke, tried to interject.
“Silence.”
“But—”
“We will have a discussion. But I’ll dispense with the Council bureaucracy for now.” He yanked his pistol from his belt and slammed it on the table. He glared at each of the other six council members and paused his scrutiny on each one. “Can I expect your honesty?”
Attius hoped for protest so he could inflict his will upon this Council. But they were too experienced for this simple performance. Silence was enough to get started, and they'd wait to see his next move.
“My house, the noble house of the Atros family, was ambushed just over two weeks ago. An assassin tried to murder my youngest daughter, and I am hunting for answers. My daughter, my sorceratti, executed the assassin. We’re questioning witnesses and a potential accomplice.”
“My Lord, why did you wait so long
to inform us about this attack? We could have helped with our own considerable resources.” Snake of a ruler. Attius didn’t like Silvia of House Ortner, and he was sure this politician spoke first to divert suspicion.
“I agree, Duke. We needed to know to protect our own houses and warn our sorceratti. You should have shared this sooner.” Gordio of House Paulus didn’t have the intellect for the level of intrigue of the other houses.
“My family heard the word of the attack on the street. We even discovered it involved another wizard. Very dangerous.” Enna of House Junius always kept her cards close to her chest. Attius would have to spend more time with her to pry out her intentions.
Time to dig deeper. “I’m questioning the potential accomplice. I think we’ll have more information on the background of this threat soon.”
“I hope you will share with us. Can you tell us more of what happened to your family?” Zonara of House Gaelus was an ally of House Atros.
“A man posing as an instructor wizard attacked our youngest. She proved to be an amazing sorceratti, the likes our family has never seen.”
“I’m glad Vedette survived her attack. We can’t let these types of attacks continue on our families and in our city. We should look to hunt down the attackers and the financiers.” Zonara concluded her positive response.
“Too expensive to raise forces to go around the mainland fighting people who don’t like us because we are wealthy and powerful. That’s why our opponent chose a covert assassin, to begin with.” Leave it to Taurus of House Stasi to bring up the cost of every detail.
Attius let the words simmer for a few moments. “The balance of power is based on the cooperation of the houses of Caesea. As our city grew from our power base, we agreed not to use our influence against each other. My seat is up at the end of the year. I want to make sure the city council is behind our future actions.”
“What are you implying, Attius?” Silvia’s suspicion caused others to nod their heads in agreement.
“Implying? Nothing. What are you inferring, my lady?” The challenge hung in the air, and Attius hoped she'd slip.
“Are you accusing another house of attacking your youngest child? That would lead to a war like no other the city has seen.” Siliva wouldn’t back down if she sensed weakness.
“Magic changed the dynamics, and the agreement was sound when we only have one wizard per household. The world should respect us, but we have to respect our families. I would hope none will change our agreements.” Zonara summed up Attius’ argument. He took the risk of not coordinating their actions before entering the hall, but she came through for him.
“My fellow lords and ladies, that is what I needed to hear to settle the anger in my soul.” Attius made a display of putting his pistol in his belt. “I’ve directed my investigation toward outside forces. I wonder who would benefit from a war amongst ourselves.”
“Too many to count, I’m afraid. We need to get our intelligence sources on the lookout for this activity.” Herrus of House Tucchi was always the voice of calm logic.
“Our police forces and guards won’t be a match for the wizard that attacked my daughter. Counterintelligence may be in order, but I predict we will have to take stronger steps.”
Nineteen
Vedette - Cormac
Vedette stormed past her stunned bodyguards and strode into the courtyard of her expansive home. Servants leaped out of her determined stride and gave a quick bow of respect. The sorceratti ignored them.
Her timing was perfect. An hour after dinner, and the guards swapped out. Day servants retired to their homes while the reduced night team started their work. Family activities settled down. No one questioned a noble daughter, especially not the sorceratti. Vedette hoped she finished with her interrogation before her parents were aware of her intentions.
In the courtyard, soldiers noticed her destination and changed their patrol pattern to intercept her before she reached the prison. She flicked her finger toward the prison door and nodded her head. Like her father, she didn’t change her objective.
The pair of guards exchanged glances. For effect, Vedette pulled in a stream of arcane power. Her soul sang with the rush of energy. Her mind shaped the flow and imagined her body glowing with magic. Her heart thumped as she released the smallest trickle and allowed her hands to glow with purple light.
The guards sprinted their awkward steps in heavy armor to meet her unspoken command. They skidded to a halt and banged for attention. One glanced over his shoulder as Vedette approached.
The guards inside the prison exchanged words, and Vedette smiled when she heard their voices' intensity. No one would stop the sorceratti. The hardest part of her mission was getting in.
As the guards worked the locks and the crossbar, Vedette turned toward her bodyguards. She motioned them to approach and looked each in the eye. “I’m interrogating Magi Cormac.” Magic flared in her hands, and she extended the glow up her arms. “You may stay here and guard the entrance.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Vedette didn’t care if he agreed to accompany her inside the prison or stayed away from the magic.
The prison guards swung open the door and greeted the sorceratti with a bow. One guard carried an oil lamp and stared at the purple magic covering Vedette’s arms.
Three pools of light illuminated the prison as night claimed the sky. The pair of guards at the door carried a single oil lamp to guide their efforts. An orange glow seeped under the door of the guard’s quarters farthest away from the prison exit. And a final lamp cast its weak light across one quadrant of the cell blocks. Vedette listened for a moment and didn’t hear her personal guards follow her in.
“You may return to your room.” The prison guards hesitated for two breaths and decided to follow the order.
They left the door open to their quarters, and Vedette assumed they would listen for signs of distress. For what she needed to do this evening, that would be fine.
She turned to face her mentor.
“Sorceratti, forgive me if I’m unable to stand.”
“Magi Cormac, I will have the guards bring you a better meal than this slop. I—”
“No, sorceratti. I’ve earned my place here. These chains were my finest project, and they will be my doom.”
“But you’ll—”
The once-proud magi shook his head as he stared at the floor. “No, I won’t. I created my prison. The chains do not block a wizard from touching the arcane plane.”
“You lied?” Vedette stepped back from the iron bars and straightened her dress.
“No, I outsmarted myself. As a wizard tries to release magic, the chains tighten. The more magic the wizard uses, the faster the chains tighten.”
Vedette's face blanched. “You’re killing yourself?”
“Not yet. I believe my employment with the House of Atros is not complete, Vedette. But these chains went far beyond what I envisioned.”
“Then let me get you out. We can explain this to my father. He’ll understand the nature of these chains and how we need your help to find out more about the attacker.”
“Your father’s guards would be inconvenient.”
“They can’t stop me.” Her blood pulsed as arcane power brushed her soul, hungry for the embrace.
“How does that help your plan of explaining to your father? Think through this, Vedette.”
“But who could stop us?”
“It’s not the stopping, sorceratti. It’s what happens afterward. What if the houses of Caesea band against Atros because they have a magi and sorceratti bent on revenge? Even the powers of magic would not stop trade wars, espionage, and assassins. No, we need to do this the right way.”
“But, the chains.”
“I made them, Vedette. Let me fill my purpose for a while longer.”
“How did this happen?”
Magi Cormac had plenty of time to reflect on his situation, and Vedette’s question was no surprise. His response was immediate.
“Someone wants me out of the way. What better choice to see me chained in a magical process of my own design?”
“Why attack me?”
“To make your father use the chains. They aren’t a secret anymore.”
Vedette lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged. She leaned forward to rest her head on the bars. The iron sent a shock of cold through the palms of her hands. A touch of magic warmed her grip. More heat and she could melt these bars into pools of metal.
Cormac’s breathing was soft but regular. He waited for her to decide, and he was the most patient man she knew. Her mind came back to the present, and she let go of the bars.
“Vedette, you must figure out what’s going on. This isn’t intrigue sponsored by a House.”
“I will, Magi.”
“Vedette, be strong. There are wizards in the city who aren’t aligned with any house. That’s why your father asked me to make these chains.”
Twenty
Kincaid - An Evening Out
Kincaid’s training went nowhere. But his pride couldn’t accept he would never be a proficient swordsman. He poured his effort into every training session, and the guards respected his determination. His swordplay would threaten no one.
His heart and his mind struggled over his future. He had to be ready for this next fight, no matter the cost. Skill with a blade took years. And his life savings were running out.
The carpentry shop also demanded his attention. Master Barnet gave him leeway to pursue this goal, and Kincaid was thankful the master didn’t press for answers about his activities. Kincaid didn’t have it in his heart to lie to him. As long as Liane kept quiet, he could continue.
The workload demanded his skills. The shop needed to create a profit to cover the master’s debts. After a morning of beatings by the town guard, Kincaid’s battered mind and hands supported the man who took him in years ago.