by Andrew Rowe
“Of course.”
Taelien spoke again. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
“He’s unlikely to part with the object I want for mere money. You’d need to part with something significant. Perhaps an artifact, like that lovely sword of yours.”
A moment of silence, then Taelien replied. “What is it that you’re offering?”
Oh, he shouldn’t have asked that so soon.
“Why, I’m offering what your friends have been wondering about for close to a year now. The identity and location of The Shrouded One.”
Jonan tried to pick up his pace, but one of the bottles slipped. Fortunately, it didn’t break — they were pretty resilient — but he had to stop to pick it back up.
He’s going to agree before I can stop him.
But of course he is. There was never any other way this was going to end.
Taelien was more reserved in his reply than Jonan would have expected. “I would need to know more details. For example, if the Shrouded One is already dead and you point me at a graveyard, that’s not useful. If the Shrouded One is a title used by multiple people, and you give me one that’s completely unrelated to the one I’m looking for—”
“Reasonable objections. Very well, I will clarify. I will give you the current location and identity of the person who hired Sterling to kill the members of the Theas family. I also give you my assurance that this person is, to the best of my knowledge, alive and not imprisoned, and still actively leading their organization.”
“That assurance is sufficient on that topic, thank you. What’s the item you’re looking for?”
“A silver half-face mask. It’s a bit of an antique.”
Jonan didn’t recognize the description.
“You’re talking about the Mask of Kishor.” Taelien’s tone was accusatory.
Aayara didn’t respond for a moment. Jonan was mildly impressed — apparently she’d underestimated his knowledge. In truth, Jonan had as well, even if he knew Taelien had spent the last several months hunting for dominion bonded items for his order.
“Quite right. I commend you on your scholarly knowledge. It’s a rarity to find someone who appreciates the antiquities these days.”
“That’s not a mere ‘curio’ or ‘trinket’. It’s an artifact from the world of Rendalir, before it was destroyed. I can see why you’d mention trading my sword for it; they’re probably of similar value.”
Aayara chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t actually put it on quite the same scale as the Sae’kes. But you’re not likely to have anything else of similar value, are you? Unless you’re hiding Hartigan’s Star somewhere?”
That was not a comforting answer for Jonan, and it probably wasn’t for anyone else involved.
“You’re asking a great deal.”
“I’m also offering a great deal. The identity of the leader of a dangerous cult. Isn’t that worth handing over something you barely even want?”
“I’ll have to consider—“”
“We’ll accept the deal.” Asphodel’s voice.
Jonan paused for a moment in his step. What?
“Oh, fascinating. I thought you would be the one to object, oracle?”
“No. What you offer is of greater value than a sword or mask. The Shrouded One must be stopped.”
“You’re sure about this?” Taelien’s voice.
Silence.
The silence lingered too long.
It took Jonan a few moments to realize what had happened — Aayara had turned off the other earring.
When he made it back to the building, he brushed passed the guards without a word, then swung open the door to Aayara’s room.
He found Taelien shaking Aayara’s hand. “We have a deal.”
“Excellent.” Aayara turned her head to where Jonan stood helpless in the doorway. “Ah, Scribe. Just in time. Let’s all enjoy a drink to celebrate our deal.”
***
Hours later, Jonan stood alone with Aayara in her office. The others had been sent to lodgings nearby where they could enjoy a meal.
“Well, what do you think?” Aayara slipped a bottle of wine out from under the table, pouring glasses for them both.
“You shouldn’t have dismissed me like that.”
“Oh, but you countered so wonderfully! Wonderfully inadequately, but wonderfully nonetheless.” She nudged one of the drinks without even bothering to slide it across to him, so he reached over and picked it up.
The wine was too sharp for his tastes, but he sipped it anyway. “Getting him killed isn’t going to be good for any of us.”
“Who?”
“Either of them.”
“Bah, you’re too soft. I’m not like my darling Jack, I don’t revel in removing people. But there are cases when someone is sufficiently disruptive that sometimes it’s the best option.”
“And that applies to Taelien now, or to this ‘prime lord’?”
“No need to take that tone with me, Jonan. It’s rude.” She stared at him, her eyes burrowing into his until he turned away.
She still had Luck’s Touch at her hip, but he wasn’t worried about that. She wouldn’t physically harm him.
Not directly.
“Fine, I’ll behave.” He took another sip and sat down across from her. “But that doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. And since I happen to be involved with both parties, I think it’s fair to want some information.”
Aayara sipped from her own drink, then smiled. “I suppose I could share a bit, for my favorite apprentice.”
Jonan set his glass down. “Favorite? Wouldn’t that be Silk? She’s the one with the title, after all.”
“Oh, are you jealous, dear?” She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re both my favorites. I couldn’t possibly choose between my children.”
Children. Jonan shuddered in spite of himself. “You could have told me about her.”
“What, and spoil the fun? I let you meet her when the two of you were old enough.”
“I could have used a partner.”
“For what? Oh, perhaps when you killed Lord Kyestri? Was that too difficult to manage on your own?”
The image of a wine glass tainted with poison flickered in his mind.
He lifted his current glass. Was it the same type, a Selyrian red?
Of course it was.
“That wasn’t the hard part. Teaching his replacement was.”
“It was excellent training for you. Even after all these years, I haven’t heard the slightest hint of suspicion — and you know how broadly I listen.”
Jonan grimaced. “Why set him up against Taelien, then?”
“What makes you think I’m doing that?”
Answering that was surprisingly easy. “Because I know him, and I know what I’ve reported to you. You’re positioning them with the intent for the two to conflict, just like I did when I put in him Edon’s periphery.”
“A masterful bit of work. Enough that I don’t even mind you comparing your work to mine, even if your plans still tend toward a little too direct for my tastes.”
“Are you implying you have another goal, then?”
“My dear, I’m always implying everything you can’t think of. You should know that by now.”
“Of course.” He sipped again. It wasn’t poisoned, fortunately. The wine itself was just a reminder. “Okay, answer me this, then. That...thing you had me train to take Kyestri’s place. What is he really? Why do this now?”
“I’m not going to give you those answers for free. You should have paid closer attention. Tell you what, though. I’ll answer your questions if you get your own assignment done quickly enough.”
“Oh? Need me to prepare a third Lord Kyestri for you?”
“What did I say about your tone? Manners, Jonan.”
Jonan took a moment to phrase his response a bit more carefully. Upsetting Aayara, even in small ways, was always unwise. “My apologies. What is it that you require of me?”
Aay
ara gave him a smile that held all the fondness of a child playing with a toy that they would break within the month. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? As for your assignment, you’re not going with them to meet with Kyestri. He’ll be able to see through your illusions by now, and seeing you would put him on high alert. We can’t have that. Instead, you’ll be taking a bodyguard and going on a different assignment.”
She was offering a good excuse, but there was another reason for it that she wasn’t stating — if she sent him somewhere completely different, he couldn’t intervene to protect either party from one another.
Not directly, at any rate.
She was offering him answers with the knowledge that he’d probably rush to finish his assignment quickly enough to try to get back and take action based on that information. Of course, she’d set it up to make that implausible, one way or another.
Implausible, never impossible. That was one way she used hope to her advantage.
Fine. I can play that way.
“What’s the assignment?”
“Haven’t you figured that out yet? Your assignment is quite simple. Find the identity and current location of The Shrouded One. You must, of course, finish this before Taelien returns...if he returns at all. We wouldn’t want to fail to deliver on our part of the bargain, would we?”
Jonan sighed, turning his head to the side.
How typical.
“No. Of course not.”
A deal was a deal, after all.
Chapter V – Lydia II – Crowns
Lydia moved a single piece on the Crowns board. The spy wasn’t the most powerful piece she had available, but it was in just the right position.
And, of course, it didn’t look like a spy — it looked like a humble soldier, unless one identified it with another spy or a diviner. The only physical indication of which solider was actually the spy was on the bottom of the piece.
It could move two squares to a soldier’s one — and straight through enemy units. Doing so would, of course, reveal that it was the spy...
“Spy takes throne.” She grinned, then reached up to fix her hair. A few strands of red had slipped out and gotten underneath her glasses. “You’re getting slow in your old age.”
Landen of the Twin Edges, sighed and leaned back in his table. “Somehow, no matter how many times you play that trick, I still fall for it. Must have been just like that in Orlyn, hrm?”
“Not quite as simple as that, as much as I wished it was.” She knew Landen was making a friendly joke, but she couldn’t laugh. Infiltrating that city’s government had not only been a harrowing experience, it had been one that challenged her morals.
“Perhaps the visit to Selyr will go better,” she added with a hint more levity than she’d managed with her previous statement.
Landen picked up the wine glass next to the Crowns board and lifted it idly without drinking. “Less sneaking, I’d imagine, but similar risks. You sure you want to head into Thornguard territory? I suspect it won’t be a particularly warm welcome.”
She thought back to Jonan’s last letter and the vague warning it contained. “No, most likely not. But I won’t be going alone.”
[I will accompany you.]
That wasn’t quite what Lydia had meant, but she felt gratitude for Vendria’s presence regardless.
The stone had grown progressively more coherent over the last few months, but Lydia expected Vendria to fall silent again soon. There seemed to be a pattern to Vendria’s coherence; she was much more capable of communicating during some months than others. Lydia suspected that had something to do with the balance of the dominions in the world, but Vendria had offered no answers.
“You sure I can’t convince you to take me along?” Landen finally stopped fiddling with his drink and took a sip, then set it back down. “House Theas has connections there. There may be some people that can help.”
Lydia shook her head. “I’d like that, but there’s a good chance we’re going straight after Sterling if they have information on him.”
“I don’t see the problem.”
Lydia folded her arms. “Don’t be stubborn. Of course you do.”
“He failed. I’m alive. Made it through that assassination better than most of you. No offense meant by that, of course.” He took another draw from the cup. “And I wouldn’t mind another round.”
Lydia ignored the play on words. “That’s just the problem. Even if he decided to break his contract, there’s a good chance he’d see failing to kill you as a point of pride. You’d be a target. And, given that you survived last time, he’d be likely to approach you from a different angle this time. Like slipping something in your drink.”
Landen set his drink down, crinkling his nose. “He’d have to get pretty close to do that.”
“Wouldn’t have to do it himself. Any innkeeper or barmaid could be one of his agents. We’re all at risk, of course, but if you went after him directly you’d be inviting a confrontation.”
“Is that really a bad thing? We want to catch him. Let me be bait.”
A hand fell on Landen’s shoulder from behind. “I would rather not risk my last remaining relative on revenge quite so soon, Larkin.” Nakane Theas leaned over his shoulder. “Even if you are drinking all my wine.”
“Please, Nakane. It’s Landen. That other name and role never suited me. I never would have been happy as a noblewoman like you.” Landen sighed. “You’re too young for wine, anyway. And your father is alive.”
“Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”
Nakane’s father — the legendary immortal sorcerer, Edrick Theas —had visited after the deaths of his wife and son, and then quickly departed the city again. In spite of his advanced age, he still served as a military leader, apparently fighting in some sort of distant campaign against a last bastion of the Xixian Empire on an island off the coast of the continent.
In Edrick’s absence, Landen had asked his paladin superiors to assign him to his cousin’s protection. While they were now aware of Sterling’s identity, the organization that had hired him was still largely a mystery. His period of guardianship would end when and if Lydia managed to discover and handle the source.
Lydia allowed the cousins to banter for a few more moments, lost in her thoughts until a woman in servant’s garb brought word from the gate. “Miss Jaldin is here to see you, Lady Theas.”
Lydia took a moment to peer curiously at the “servant”, noting her unusual blue hair and the all-too-familiar aura of protection sorcery glimmering around her. The effect was virtually invisible to the naked eye, but as a protection sorcerer herself, Lydia could sense its presence like a pressure in the air.
Not just a servant, then. A sorcerer in a servant’s uniform. Not unwise, given how ineffective the guards proved to be the last time Sterling paid House Theas a visit. I’ll wager that if they hired one, there are probably more lurking somewhere just out of sight.
Nakane waved a hand. “Thank you, Emily. Send her in.”
Landen’s eyes followed Emily as she vanished back toward the gate, leaving Lydia with a few more questions to ask him the next time they had some privacy.
Velas arrived a few moments later, wearing a formal dress in House Jaldin’s colors — white and gold — rather than her usual paladin garb. She bowed to Nakane. “Lady Theas, thank you for the invitation.”
Nakane rose and returned the gesture. “The pleasure is always mine. Can I interest you in a game of Crowns before you get to business?”
Velas gave Lydia a quizzical glance. Lydia shrugged a shoulder. “May as well enjoy yourself, we haven’t left yet.”
Landen got out of his chair and walked over to Velas’ side, looking her up and down. “You must have gotten awfully out of shape if you’re wearing something like that to cover up your figure.”
Velas sent a casual slap in his direction, but Landen stepped back and grinned. “Or maybe you just picked up a few new scars?”
Velas blurred, reappearing r
ight in front of him, almost nose-to-nose. “I’ll show you scars.” She grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. “Missed you.”
“Well, yes, you weren’t aiming very carefully.” Landen chuckled. “I missed you, too.”
“I know, otherwise you wouldn’t have been eyeing my dress.” Velas released him from the hug, then sat down in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. “Now, about that game of Crowns...”
***
Later that evening, Lydia arrived at the entrance of another familiar home. In simpler times, it would have been a comforting sight.
At the moment, however, Lydia felt her heart beating rapidly as she continued to debate her current course of action.
She steeled herself and knocked on the door.
It was no servant or guard that answered the door, but one of the owners of the home — albeit not the one she’d expected.
Lydia blinked as she processed the ancient rethri, his black hair streaked with white. That factor alone was a peculiarity among his species, since they typically ceased having any outward signs of age after their coming of age ritual.
Ulandir Ta’thyriel was far from typical in a number of regards, however.
The white in his hair matched the paleness of his eyes, as well as the rune-like markings that stretched beyond them. The lack of color was not a sign of blindness, but rather an unusual eye color, even by rethri standards. Ulandir’s dominion bond was a rare one, and his life-long exploration of its uses the cause of his atypical appearance.
Lydia bowed. “Lord Ta’thyriel, it’s been too long. I wasn’t aware you were back home.”
The elderly rethri stared at her for an uncomfortable moment, and then he nodded. “Yes. I suppose I am, aren’t I?”
“May I come inside?”
Another moment of silence, and then he replied, “I suspect you might.” After a few more seconds, he stepped out of the doorway, shaking his head.
Lydia nodded. “Thank you.” She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I’m looking for Aladir. Is he home?”
Ulandir shrugged a shoulder. “He’s probably around somewhere.” He raised a hand to his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Ah, Lydia. Yes. Forgive me. My manners seem to have fled. Please, come in, and make yourself comfortable.”