by Mark August
Wishing for more luck, he pulled open the door to an empty corridor. Workshops to support the household must cover this bottom floor. Picking a direction, Kincaid turned left and looked for a way out of this maze.
A broad ray of light beckoned from the world beyond the noble house. Kincaid’s pace picked up to a slow jog as he saw a door already open and leading outside. A few more paces to freedom. His escape.
The sunlight warmed his face. People gathered near the entrance and pointed at the smoke. Others ran toward the household with empty buckets and looks of determination.
No one paid attention to the soot-covered guard making his way out of the structure. Even one with a poorly fitting uniform.
Kincaid walked away from his imprisonment. He slipped his cane from his belt and used it to steady his walk. His makeshift bag rattled with each step.
Fifty-Nine
Kincaid - Sholeh
“I need your help, Sholeh.”
The hammer paused at the height of the swing and slowly lowered. The sweaty smith turned and faced the speaker. Her face glowed with a smile, and she threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.
Kincaid stumbled backward in her grip. Sholeh buried her face into his neck for a moment, and Kincaid breathed in her smells. He grunted as she squeezed tighter. The excited smith released her hug and stepped back to look him over.
“By all that is good and holy, Kincaid. You are set free?”
“Not exactly.”
Sholeh grounded her hammer near the anvil and gestured to dismiss the apprentice pumping the bellows. She crossed her bare arms across her chest and tapped her foot. Sholeh shook her head.
“What problem did you drag into my forge?”
Kincaid wished the hug was longer. He’d rather face the city sorceratti than an angry Sholeh.
“I was going to be executed. I had to escape.”
“You came here to drag me into this?”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
Sholeh’s arms dropped to her sides. Her face softened as she considered his plea. “Where is your sister?”
“They have her.”
Her shoulders slumped. Sholeh reached for his arm and pulled him toward the corner of the forge. “Why your sister?”
“They were using her against me. It’s bad, Sholeh.”
She straightened her back and became decisive. “Go to my room and wait for me.”
Kincaid hesitated. He needed her help, but his mind fought against the role she would play. If they were discovered, she’d share his fate.
“By all that is holy, do you want my help?”
“Yes.”
“Then wait for me.”
Kincaid leaned forward and placed his hands on her arms. “I need your help as a smith.” He dumped the shirt with the chains on the floor with a rattle. He immediately regretted the sound in the forge, but the rattle of metal wasn’t enough to make a single worker look up from their task. “This may be the most important thing you’ve ever done.”
Her tone softened. “What can I do?”
“Destroy these. Metal can’t damage them.”
“Then why did you bring them to a smithy?”
“Because there is only one person I trust. If anyone gets their hands on these chains…”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“If I did not, the city guard would already be here.”
It felt good to smile. “True.”
Sholeh glanced around the smithy and considered her options. “Go to my room, before I change my mind.”
“Remember, no metal.”
“For all that is holy, I heard you the first two times.” To prove her point, she went over to the bellows and pumped air to return the deep red glow to her fires. Without looking back at Kincaid, she took the chains and tossed them into the heart of the heat.
Satisfied she was already working with his most important problem, Kincaid headed away from the smithy. Unlike most artisans in Caesea, her smithy did not have the living space to house the workers. Apprentices lived behind the structure, and journeymen rented nearby rooms.
By keeping their students in debt, masters maintained a skilled workforce. Funds going to rent were not being used to create competing businesses. Production could be high with a shop full of skilled workers, and every shop made the noble houses rich.
The evening rush of people closing shops was coming to an end. Most workers found their favorite respite at home or in an inn. The lamps gave off their persistent glow as Kincaid made his way through the streets.
He jumped at the sounds of groups of people or loud voices. His mind imagined marching boots coming in his direction. He had no idea if his escape was successful or how much time he had before a search party found him.
His worries faded as he found Sholeh’s rented room. Kincaid smiled as he pushed open the door. She was a true artisan, and she was a creature of habit. The room was exactly like he remembered it. Her room was neat, with everything in its place. Her wooden chest had the marks of a master carpenter and the skills of a talented metalworker.
Kincaid remembered when he gave her that chest as a gift. They were at a different place in their lives. He remembered how she showed him how she could bind straps around the chest and make it better with her own hands. He ran his hands over the wood and closed his eyes. The familiar grains were a comfort to his mind, and the smell of the worn wood lightened his soul. He opened his eyes and scanned the rest of the room.
He stripped down to his small clothes and wished he could cleanse the smells from the prison. He couldn’t afford the luxury of a bath, and he couldn’t risk discovery. Kincaid desperately wanted to lay down in the bed, but the thought of the creatures in his hair and skin finding a new home disgusted him. He’d have to burn those guard clothes as well. He couldn’t implicate Sholeh in his escape.
The knock on his door was low and quiet. Kincaid tensed and gripped his cane like a sword. He longed to reach out to the arcane forces at his command, but he didn’t want to be a beacon for every sorceratti in the city.
Sholeh eased open the door, checked the entryway for followers, and slipped inside before someone noticed. He sighed in silent relief and lowered his cane. She tossed a tight package on the bed and smiled when she saw him hiding in the corner.
“The swordsman ready to take on the world. Hiding in my bedroom.”
“A very different environment than prison.” Kincaid dug into the package and found a shirt, pants, belt, and boots that would fit him. The material was used and worn, but the quality was suitable for artisans in the city. He could find his life in these clothes.
“You are starting to look like your old self, friend Kincaid. Just a skinny version.”
“Clothes make a difference.”
“You look like you were playing soldier in that uniform. I am surprised you made it to the shop without being stopped.”
“If you loan me some coins, I’ll move away from here. But I promise I will pay you back.” Sholeh didn’t make a move or acknowledge his statement. “Sholeh, I’m an escaped prisoner from the house prison. I must break into another prison to save my sister. I also have to avoid all the city’s guards and wizards to do it.”
“I will assume that your summary is accurate.”
“But—”
“When you asked to use my forge, you made me part of your plan. Get over it.”
“What about those chains?”
“By all that is good, we are talking about you as an escaped prisoner.”
“I need to know, Sholeh.”
“They are destroyed. The heat worked well, but I used the wooden shaft of an ax to break them apart. How could they be immune to steel? How would someone even make them?”
“Sholeh. Those chains secured a wizard, a teacher of every wizard in the city. They were keeping him from using magic.”
“How did you escape, Kincaid?”
Kincaid moved toward the
bed and sat down next to her. He reached out for her hands. She let him pull her hands on his thigh, and he enjoyed the warm strength.
“I want to answer the question. But I don’t know how.”
She pulled her hands away from his touch and stood. “I am in this with you, and you will not tell me how you escaped?”
“Please, sit. This is hard. I don’t think you’ll believe me when I tell it.”
Curiosity got the better of her, and she joined Kincaid back on her bed. She kept her hands in her lap and waited for him to continue.
“I used magic to escape.”
“That is it. That is your story.”
“No, I mean it. I am a wizard. I can channel magic to make things happen. Impossible things.”
“By all that is holy, Kincaid. You owe me more than this.”
His hands began to glow. Kincaid brushed the back of her hands to show his fingers were cool to the touch. Magic pounded inside him for release in a powerful display. He took a small risk and let the magic build into a little ball of fire rolling up and down his fingers. He dared not risk more.
“By all that is holy…”
“I don’t think any of this is holy at all. I am not sure what I believe about good and evil.”
“They want your power.”
“Yes.”
“And they will execute you.”
“I don’t plan on giving them a chance.”
“I will help you.”
Sixty
Vedette - Family Plans
“Are you sure, Vedette?” Giomar, her older brother, asked.
The fire in the Great Hall warmed her skin even as she fought away the images from the prison. Falling temperatures threatened to seep into her bones and chill her soul. She looked down and saw the wrinkles creating canyons in her once-youthful hands. Hiding the shocks of gray in her hair was harder each day.
After today’s efforts against the flames, she felt worse. Exhaustion plagued her body, and sleep couldn’t combat the fatigue. Images of the charred corpses plagued her mind.
“Vedette, are you all right?” her father asked.
“Yes, just tired.” Vedette left out the part she was unconvinced she’d find rest. “I’m sure. The cell doors were open, and the locks melted.”
“But the fire could’ve done that,” her sister, Lissandra, said. She was the family prize, the oldest daughter to be married off for her parents' political purpose. Her sister was beautiful and healthy, and she was one of those women that knew it. Lissandra had the arrogance of her father without the talent to back it up.
“Not like this. Tomorrow, when it is cool enough for us to go inside, you’ll see pools of metals at the two locks.” She looked at her siblings in turn, “and only two locks have pools of metal. The steel bars were not affected the same way.”
“Someone could’ve broken into the jail and freed them,” her mother said.
“Yes, that is true. But then we have a far deeper problem, wouldn’t you agree? Instead of the city facing one powerful wizard, we would have a wizard leading a skilled team of mercenaries.”
“No word of that theory outside this room,” Attius said.
“Agreed. The prison doesn’t look like a company of soldiers attacked, and none of the servants noted unusual activity.” Vedette nodded. “Besides, if a mercenary company broke out our carpenter, why would he need to use so much magic?”
“Then we need to question the prison guards and see if they were involved,” her brother, Armand, said. Second in line to the family titles, her brother lived in the deep shadow of Giomar. He was thoughtful and decisive. Most importantly to her father, he was utterly loyal to his older brother.
Vedette shook her head, “They’re all dead. None survived the fire.”
“Convenient.”
“No, tragic. They weren’t expecting a powerful wizard from within. They never had a chance.”
Her mother was thoughtful and gestured toward her with her glass of wine, “How can you be sure the carpenter escaped?”
Vedette cleared her throat. “I’m certain the wizard escaped because I checked each body.”
“Impossible,” Lissandra gasped.
She glared back. “For you, absolutely. For me, I used my magic to protect myself from the fire.”
“The stories are true,” Giomar whispered. He reached the fire line after Vedette emerged from the inferno.
“The cells were open, and Cormac was laid to rest as if he was on a funeral pyre.”
“The chains?” Attius asked.
“Gone. The guards were dead with weapons never drawn. Kincaid escaped.”
“This changes everything,” Attius said.
“It does, my husband. And we may be able to use this story to our advantage. The Council acted over your objections. The city records confirm your position.”
Attius smiled, and his posture returned with the regal bearing he’d been born to carry. “The escape gives us a novel approach to the Council.”
“Wait, a powerful wizard is on the loose in the city and probably bent on revenge, and we think this is good?” Vedette couldn’t hide her disbelief from her face. It was quickly replaced with disgust.
“The boy is likely heading for the coast. Why would he stay in the town with sorceratti and resources to hunt him down?” her mother responded.
“The city’s capabilities can now be at our disposal to do what Vedette described. We can unite the power of the houses in an effort against this one man, whether he stayed here or not,” Attius said. His gaze focused on a distant tapestry as his hands twitched with plans calculating in his mind.
Giomar brought the conversation back to the moment. “Father, Vedette has an excellent point. This wizard destroyed our prison. He escaped from the center of our family household. Along the way, he killed at least four guards and possibly even the Magi. We should not be celebrating victory.”
“You’re going to take her side on this?” Lissandra asked.
“No, I am facing reality. We need to find this wizard. This might be the first attack at the start of a war.” Vedette knew Giomar’s words would hold weight with her father.
“When the Council meets this morning, we will have time to digest this. We’ll put a watch on the docks to find the young man. We can also work with the houses’ intelligence services to uncover his location. If he’s here, we’ll find him.”
“Yes, love, and the Council will have no choice but to support your plans. They have to agree to our course of action.”
Vedette shook her head and crossed her arms. She pushed back from the table, and her chair scraped on the flagstones. Her father noticed.
“Vedette, there’s one more thing. I need you to come to the City Council and discuss what you saw. That will change everything.”
“Of course, Father. But there’s something we haven’t considered.”
“What is that?”
“What if the city can’t stop him?”
Sixty-One
Attius - Council Wars
Attius was the first member of the City Council to make his way into the chambers. The servants were organizing the room when he arrived, and he noticed the Duchess was making changes to the decorations. She didn’t plan on being a temporary fixture until the next election. As he observed the workers, he felt a twang of guilt he didn’t know a single name of the servants dedicated to the City Council.
He strolled the length of the walls and admired the artwork. The city’s history unfolded before his eyes. As momentous events shaped the city, the ruling houses commissioned artwork to commemorate history. Each frame reminded the members they had a place in the city’s story. How would an artist depict what he must do today?
After the clock tower rang its morning toll, members of the Council arrived. Each was surprised to see Attius seated at his place at the end of the table. Conversations became whispers, and servants hurried away. Attius made no move to get up and talk to them. With their alliances formed
, he’d take them apart with his timing.
This city needed leaders. Wealth and power demanded discipline. Attius thrived in the pursuit and use of power, and he would be the leader the city expected. Politics was a conflict with winners and losers.
The Duchess arrived last. Attius was certain she calculated her arrival with precision, and she waited until the master of ceremonies announced her arrival. The other member stood in a sign of respect. Attius made a show to stand up last and ensured he’d be the last to be seated.
“To one and all, I wish you a good morning. Shall we call the session of the City Council to order?” The Duchess hadn’t heard the news.
The master of ceremonies nodded and said, “This Council is in order. We have several items of importance, my lady.”
Attius held his tongue. Several members of the Council were watching his reaction. Good, they knew. His intelligence service planted the rumors about the fire in the prison.
Lady Zonara broke the Council’s routine. “Attius, I’m glad to hear that you’re able to get the fire under control in your household.”
“Thank you, my lady. Several servants in the courtyard noticed the smoke, and they raised the alarm. We were able to save the entire compound except for one building.”
“Enough of the game, Attius.” Lady Enna said. “We know your prison caught on fire, and the rumors are everywhere the prisoners are either dead or escaped.”
“Caught fire would not be an accurate statement. The prison was set on fire.” Attius let his words sink in.
Members of the City Council nodded their heads in agreement. Only the Duchess was confused. She’d catch up quickly, and Attius had to make his move.
“What is the status of your prisoners?” Lord Herrus asked.
“Our investigation continues to the cause, my Lord. But—”
“One of the wizards.” Lady Enna said. Not a question, a statement. Perfect.
The doors pushed open, and the master of ceremonies made his announcement. “Lady Vedette, sorceratti of House Atros.” Attius was impressed with her timing.