Soul of Magic: Book 1 of the Chronomancer Series

by Mark August

  “My lord, I wish I knew a way to convince you. I’m a carpenter. I’ve been in the city and your district for four years. I don’t know why I’m here. Perhaps you have the wrong person?”

  Heat radiated from the angry nobleman. He ground his teeth before he responded. “You may find your obstinacy useful in my city streets. But your reluctance to comply with my wishes only hastens your date with your execution. The next time I return, you can expect I will not be pleasant.”

  The Duke spun on his heels and gestured for the young woman and the guards to accompany him. Fear raced through Kincaid’s mind. He didn’t know how to prove he knew nothing about magic. And that scared him.

  Twenty-Nine

  Attius - Family Point of View

  Vedette tore her cloak from the clasp confining it to her neck. She threw it on the armchair and paced the Great Hall. On her tenth lap, she stopped and faced her father with her fury barely restrained. “You should have told me what you planned, Father.”

  The Duke made a show of pulling on each finger of his gloves to take them off his hands. He unclasped his cloak, folded its length before placing it in a chair, and stared up at his waiting daughter. “Told you what? We have a wizard in our prison? I assumed you already knew that after your visits.”

  Vedette’s jaw dropped as he pulled out his chair and summoned the servants. They hurried to his side and listened to his commands. They scurried off to the kitchen to obey.

  A snack. After what happened in the prison. A snack.

  “Do you think this is part of your game with the families? Do you believe these wizards are pawns in some game that you created?” Vedette didn’t bother to obscure the emotions in her accusation.

  The Duke rubbed the gold buttons on his shirt with a corner of his sleeve. “You are the sorceratti of this house.”

  “That doesn’t answer either of my questions. That’s a statement of your reflection of me.”

  Her father turned away from cleaning his uniform and fixed his intense gaze on her. Words melted in her mind under the scrutiny. “What do you want me to say, Vedette? We have a threat against this house, and part of that threat tried to kill my youngest daughter. I’m experienced in handling threats and fighting wars. My whole life, I’ve trained for those. But magic is different.” He held up his finger when she took in a deep breath to counter his words. “Please let me finish. As a father, I must put my youngest child in danger. I may have to put all of my children in danger, but it hurts when my youngest carries a unique burden. We expect you to rule. But you have a different duty. The responsibility of using magic to protect us.

  “I only want you to wield your power as the last line of defense, but against this threat, you are the family’s only line of defense. That's hard for me.”

  Vedette tried to keep her rage flowing. She pulled out the chair to her father’s right and sat down. Elbows planted on the table, she rested her cheeks in the palms of her hands. “I understand the pressure on your shoulders. I’m trained to help you carry this weight, you know.”

  “I don't wish to share this burden. Even as a ruler, I’m still a father protecting his daughter from the dark world.”

  “But we walked into a prison and provoked a wizard. What if I wasn’t ready for a sudden move?”

  “I trust you.” The tone of his statement made the impression that this was the only logical answer. As if she should have expected this move and been ready for this possibility.

  “Trust won’t matter if I’m surprised by a plan you’ve crafted.”

  “I feel it. The growing darkness, like a storm building.”

  “We can’t control this storm.”

  “We have to try. That’s what we do.”

  The servants arrived with a tray of cookies and a tea service set. They rushed to place cups near the pair and poured hot tea. Her father waited until the servants retreated out of earshot.

  Vedette’s mind churned through the emotions and thoughts as her hands absentmindedly picked up a saucer and cup. The tea was at her lips before her mind registered her actions. Her father was lost in his own thoughts as he stared off to the end of the hall.

  “The other families see the same storm coming, Father.”

  The words pulled his focus back to the table. “I agree. The families of the city are struggling to understand the threat of magic. Something is pushing on the balance of power maintained by diplomacy. This new force means a single individual can upset everything we’ve worked to achieve.

  “My father was on the Council when they faced the toughest vote. They agreed magic would be outlawed, and only the youngest of each house would learn the powers of magic. Death was an appropriate sentence for any who broke the law. They anticipated that the seven sorceratti would be enough deterrence.”

  “Right until someone broke it.” Her tea was gone, and she returned the cup to the serving tray. With careful hands, she poured another cup so she wouldn’t have to wait for the servants to notice and then disappear before her father spoke again.

  “The power of the arcane is always there. At least as I understand it. Just because seven families write their names on a piece of parchment doesn’t mean the threat won’t emerge. If we outlawed war, a great power would still try to achieve its interests through force. The agreement on magic was useful and kept the city safe. But this council knows the balance can be upset.”

  The realization came with a flash. “The sorceratti.”

  The Duke nodded over his cup of tea and returned the empty cup to the tray. He nibbled on a cookie. “Yes, the youngest children as frontline warriors with life and death choices.”

  “The role of the sorceratti has never been tested.”

  “Until your attack, never. The families didn’t use magic against each other, and foreign powers knew we were training wizards. The balance within and without was stable.”

  “Now we have a wizard in our prison. Are you threatening the balance?”

  Her father’s gaze returned to the back wall. Silence smothered the conversation.

  He returned to the moment and answered, “Not intentionally.” He placed his hands on the table and gripped the edge. “But I need to understand how a wizard shows up in our midst and threatens the very fabric of our power that makes our city work.”

  “Then we will kill a young man in a prison because it scares us?”

  “Scared, no. The House of Atros does not act out of fear. We calculate. We think. And then we deliver a message with force to demonstrate our intent. I think this new wizard knows more than he is letting on. I just can’t prove it yet.”

  “When the families became scared—”

  “We will deal with them, Vedette. The threat isn’t just to us.”

  “But he is in the same cell block as the wizard who created the sorceratti.”

  “Yes, he is. Right where I want him to be.”

  Thirty

  Kincaid - Prison Talk

  The interview with the ruling family didn’t go well. The interrogation. Their focus on magic was relentless, and Kincaid wasn’t convinced he had supernatural power. Unusual things happened in that struggle. But he could justify those.

  He cleared his throat. “When do you think they’ll deal with me?”

  Cormac didn’t open his eyes. “The prisoner speaks. To talk about his fate?”

  “If you’re up for a chat, then yes.”

  Intense eyes snapped open with immediate focus. Cormac stretched his limbs out with the chains rattling against their rings. Kincaid stayed seated with his back against the wall.

  “I don’t think they'll execute you.”

  “Music to my ears. Based on what?”

  “The House of Atros knows nothing about you. I’m positive the full Council demands to know about the wizard in Atros’ prison. Especially one that surfaced from a carpentry shop.”

  “I’m not a wizard, Cormac.”

  “Then they will execute you. Eventually. Your strategy to stall will
only slow your fate by a few days.”

  “I should make up a story?”

  “Lies are dangerous, and under interrogation, they can be torn apart. The most dangerous lies are the ones you tell yourself.”

  Kincaid pulled himself up from the straw. The pallet hadn’t been changed in days, and bugs found their way into the mess. He scratched the back of his legs as he paced the length of his cell.

  “I’m worried you have this much practice with questioning and lying.” Kincaid reached the bars and clutched the cold metal in the palms of his hands. Every night he shivered under the relentless chill.

  Cormac chuckled. The intensity in his eyes was still there, but his face split with a grin. Wrinkles around his eyes deepened, and the matted beard parted. “No, I’ve lived almost 30 years in the city. I devoted most of those moments to the ruling families. I’ve witnessed how this works too many times.”

  “Your story in the circles of power must be quite the tale.”

  “Sure, we’ll share it over a beer at your favorite inn when we get out of here.”

  “Not what I meant. You’ve worked with these families and know how they work.”

  “No, I have a warning for those who choose to interact with power. For those who will do anything to keep their power.”

  “Arcane power?”

  The grin disappeared. Something flared in those eyes as Cormac pulled his body to the edges of his restraints. “Perhaps that too. Maybe that’s why we’re both here. We played too much with power in a city where we are just immigrants.”

  Kincaid shook his head and rested his forehead against the iron bars. “I wish I knew the game we were playing.”

  “When they return, what will you tell them?”

  “I remember falling through the floor. I remember the stones pulling up from underneath our feet.”

  “Pulling up? Not falling down?” The chains rattled as Cormac leaned harder against the links. The intensity in those eyes lit up his cell with energy.

  “The fight was terrible. I could only get one of them before they took me down. When my sister tried to save me, I burned within. I couldn’t control it, and then the floor collapsed underneath us. We fell through the floors.”

  A smile played across Cormac’s lips, and he relaxed the tension on the chains. The eyes were thoughtful as he gazed at Kincaid. Somehow the calculus between them changed in those few shared words. “Think carefully about what you will tell them when they return, Kincaid. You may stay the execution if you can tell a similar story and show them something.”

  Kincaid’s heart sank lower. "I can’t do anything. I can tell the story from what I remember, but I don’t have the power to perform tricks. I have nothing to show them. I’m a carpenter who woke up in prison."

  Cormac began his ritual of coiling his chains to return to his resting place on the prison floor. Each link found its place, and he folded his legs underneath himself with precision. The eyes closed again.

  “That’s it? You'll close your eyes again and ignore me?"

  One eye opened. “Interesting.” Cormac leaned back in his restraint, touched his back to the wooden pallet, and closed his eyes.

  “Hey, Cormac. Every time the woman comes in here, she always looks to you. I think she knows you. Who is she?”

  Cormac didn’t stir with the question. Kincaid struggled to stay his execution.

  Thirty-One

  Kincaid - Reunion

  Guards rushed to the door, locks clunked, and the crossbar banged to the floor. The routine didn’t surprise Kincaid anymore, but he steeled his heart for the interrogation that would accompany the commotion. He remained in his pallet and mirrored Cormac’s lack of interest. Kincaid was ready.

  The entourage was different this time. The Duke and the woman were the same, but the guards held someone between them. After the blinding light of the open door followed by the returning gloom, Kincaid’s eyes couldn’t adjust to identify the new person. The guards kept this one behind the Duke.

  “Good morning, journeyman Kincaid.” The Duke’s tone was different, with more variation and excitement.

  “My Lord.” Kincaid didn't stand or kneel this time.

  “We’ve come to ask about your source of magic.”

  The topic wasn’t a surprise, but Kincaid wondered why the guards remained with the new person between them. By the frame of the body through the ragged clothes, Kincaid assumed the individual was a woman. Her hands hadn’t moved from behind her back, and a sack covered her face.

  “I’m certain you have. But, I don't know anything about magic."

  “As long as you can pull in your next breath, there’s time to discuss and deal. And confess.”

  “Confession?” If he was a prisoner beyond the city's laws, Kincaid couldn’t understand the need to confess to a crime with a death sentence.

  “The City Council is interested in my daughter's safety and the destruction of your shop. By magic. Your magic.”

  Kincaid didn’t like the flow of the conversation, and he could explain the defense of his sister and master. Now the Duke was maneuvering the conversation. Kincaid wished he knew where.

  “My crimes are expanding to a threat to your daughter?”

  The woman looked toward the Duke. The dim light made catching her facial expressions difficult.

  Wait. The sorceratti. The daughter. Makes sense now. Kincaid glanced toward Cormac and caught the intensity in his eyes again. Kincaid was sure he glimpsed a slight grin.

  “We’re here to determine that, Kincaid. Your cooperation would go a very long way to easing the sentence.”

  Kincaid gestured around the cell. “My life isn’t getting better by the day.”

  “Why don’t we begin with what happened in the shop, the night you claim they attacked you.”

  He’s withholding something now. There’s confidence beyond his arrogance as a noble. The questioning is different.

  Kincaid had no choice left except to commit to his plan. He pulled in a deep breath and began. “I was coming home from dinner, and, from down the street, I saw several figures working up the stairs to the top floor of the shop—”

  “The master’s quarters, I assume.”

  “Yes, Master Barnet kept his quarters on the top floor. The last time people headed up to his room under cover of night, it was to extort protection money. Those thugs sent me to the hospital for days.”

  “And they were back to collect money?”

  “I assumed they were back for money. To be sure, I went upstairs to check on the master. I knew Master Barnet didn’t have the money. Those of us on the shop floor hadn’t finished the bigger contracts to make the money this group wanted. I went upstairs to help.”

  “And you found…”

  “The same thugs as the first time. I was in the fight for my life. They wouldn't let me interrupt for a second time, and I was afraid they would kill me.”

  “I see. A great deal of honor in your heart. Your master must have owed you a great deal for saving his life.”

  “When we came to the city, he is the only one that took us in. He saw something in us. And gave us a start with a guild.” Kincaid got to his feet, defiance and pride pushing him into motion.

  “Us?”

  He stopped in his tracks, and Kincaid grimaced. The truth was important; deception was necessary. He couldn’t make mistakes like that with this man. Own up.

  “Yes, my older sister and I immigrated to the city four years ago.”

  “How did the structure get damaged?”

  “I fought with three thugs. With surprise, I took the first one down. But I don’t remember the fight with the other two. Things were happening fast. And I had to end things quickly.”

  “I’m surprised. You don’t have the size or build of a warrior. Not even the training.”

  Rage seeped into Kincaid’s heart. The Duke was pushing him somewhere. “I’m scrappy, and I’m not afraid of a fight. I was fighting for everything that mattered.” H
ands were back on the iron bars. Kincaid wanted to slip through the bars and go toe to toe with the arrogant Duke.

  “Of that, I have no doubt. So how did the scrappy one finish off three thugs?”

  “I don’t know. I remember the floor coming apart at my feet. I could never get close enough to finish the job. When my world went black, I thought they fell through the floor with me.”

  The Duke stepped close to the bars and leaned in. Just out of reach. “Kincaid, did you use magic to fight three armed thugs in the shop that night? Did you use magic to defend yourself and your master?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Kincaid, this will go much better for you if you demonstrate your power.”

  The sorceratti, no the daughter, leaned forward. Her balance shifted, and her eyes glowed again. She balled her hands and was ready to fight. She was prepared for him. But ready for what?

  “I’m sorry, my Lord. I don’t have that ability.”

  “I have someone who says otherwise, journeyman.”

  He reached back to the woman with the sack on her head and pulled her in front of him. The new prisoner fought with her balance from the jerk, but she didn’t make a sound. The Duke’s grin dripped with evil.

  He pulled off the sack with a slow tug. Red hair tumbled out from the confinement. The woman held her chin high and had rage in her eyes. A rag stuffed in her mouth stifled any curses she would spit at her captors. Liane.

  “Your sister didn’t tell us the same story, Kincaid. Not at all. She was in the master’s quarters with you, wasn’t she?” The Duke brushed his sister’s hair out of her eyes. “And now she’s threatened by your lack of cooperation.”

  Liane’s cheek had deep purple and black bruises. Cuts covered her chin. She winced as she tried to stand straight. Her eyes flooded with tears as she locked her eyes with her brother.