The Wound of the World

by Edward W. Robertson

  "Three days," Dante said. "I'll see you here."

  She nodded to each of them, then took a last look at Cee, who remained apart, a picture of stoicism. Raxa departed so quietly Dante would have sworn she was shadowalking.

  "Well," Blays said. "Did we just do something incredibly stupid?"

  Dante tugged up his hood. "That depends. What exactly did we commit to?"

  "'We'? Tragically, I can barely touch the nether. Minn's my witness to that. Teaching the wild helltiger to do magic is all your job."

  "Thank you for volunteering me, by the way. I was just wondering how I could add yet another responsibility to my load."

  "Think of it as training someone to make your life easier." Blays motioned for Cee to join them. "Moving along, if Raxa's going to infiltrate Bressel, she's going to need a partner. Ideally, someone who can do things like 'speak to the locals in their own language.'"

  "I've already got someone in mind for that." Dante smiled. "And I think he'll like this even less than I do."

  ~

  Sorrowen slouched into his offices with his shoulders hunched and his elbows tucked tight to his sides, as if he might be able to escape notice if only he could make himself small enough. Aware that he was being cruel, if only in a small way, Dante watched him enter in silence, allowing him to continue to wonder what this was about.

  "Please." Dante motioned to a chair. "Sit."

  Sorrowen followed orders, awkwardly scooting the heavy chair across the rug to pull himself closer to the table. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then thought better.

  Dante gave him a level look. "I need you to do something you might have thought you'd never do again: return to Mallon. There, you'll infiltrate the Bresselian priesthood and attempt to locate a man named Gladdic."

  Sorrowen's head gave an involuntary jerk. "Wait. Wait. You want…what?"

  Dante repeated himself. "You'll have a partner with you. While you may need to coordinate at some points, I expect she'll be working separately."

  "Er." The boy swallowed, pinched his eyebrows together, and looked steadfastly at the table. "Why me? Sir?"

  "Because you're the right fit for the task."

  "But I can't do a thing like that!"

  "No," Dante said, "you're not used to doing a thing like that. But you made it here, from Mallon, by yourself. Just a couple of weeks ago, your quick thinking and ability to act in the moment saved Cee's life. You have the potential to be of great value. All you need is the opportunity to grow into the role. If I sound confident, that's because I was once in the exact same position you are now."

  The boy scrunched his mouth to the side. "You don't think I'm too young?"

  "Your youth is an asset. They're less likely to suspect you than someone older."

  "How long will I be gone? Won't I fall behind in my studies?"

  "Unless you plan to start a secret nethermancy school inside a Mallish temple, probably so. But I'll be traveling with you until you reach Mallon. Along the way, I'll train you personally."

  "Uh," Sorrowen said. "That is to say, you will?"

  "It's a long journey. We'll need something to pass the time."

  "Then I accept. Or I would, anyway, if not for the problem of other things that happened. Sir, I left the priesthood without permission. I'll never be allowed back inside."

  "You let me worry about that," Dante said. "You have a month to get ready. If I have the time, I'll try to start your lessons before we leave."

  Sorrowen stood, bowed, and practically ran from the chamber, as if wanting to flee the scene before Dante could change his mind.

  With that out of the way, Dante sent for Olivander, Nak, and Blays. They took seats around the table, which was large enough for a dozen. Dante proceeded to lay out his plan to send Raxa and Sorrowen to infiltrate Bressel. Dante thought the idea and its execution were rather cunning, but as he finished, Olivander looked like Dante had suggested they dig a secret tunnel into Mallon using their teeth as shovels.

  "Do you really think this is necessary?" Olivander said.

  Dante leaned back in his chair. "We have to find Gladdic. If we hadn't intervened, he would have killed everyone in the Collen Basin."

  "Are you trying to provoke war with Mallon?"

  "Just because I'm always getting into them doesn't mean I like wars. Usually, I'm trying to avert them. But the universe has a bad habit of not listening to me."

  "I see," Olivander said. "And you believe the best candidates for this job are a young boy and a woman who, until last night, was trying to kill you?"

  "If they're caught, we can plausibly disavow both of them. One's a known criminal with a vendetta against us who thought she could go to Bressel to stir up trouble against us. The other's a Mallish boy who was sickened by what he was supposed to learn in Narashtovik and went running back to his homeland."

  "Will you bring them back once Gladdic's been dealt with? Or will they be more permanent assets?"

  "I hadn't thought of it. I suppose if they're still finding useful information, it would be foolish to bring them home too fast."

  Olivander crossed his arms over his chest. "In other words, they'll be there until the end of time."

  "Strange. You sound like you think you're saying the same thing I said, and yet every word is completely different."

  "There was once a military philosopher named Andaral who said that until you sheathe your sword, you'll never stop cutting things with it. If you create an institution without defined boundaries, it will continue of its own accord, because you'll always find a new way to put it to use. Before committing people to the field, I strongly suggest we define our objectives."

  "They're twofold. First, to locate and eliminate Gladdic. And second, to figure out whether Mallon has any immediate plans to do us harm. Once we've got those questions answered, we'll withdraw the spies."

  "Very good. Nak, are you writing this down?"

  Dante frowned. "Why would we want to put this in writing?"

  "To hold ourselves accountable. You of all people should understand the power of ink."

  "What if somebody steals the documents?"

  "Like who?" Blays put in. "The unstoppable thief you just hired?"

  "Bringing her aboard was your idea!" Dante said. "Besides, she's the perfect example of why we wouldn't want to leave proof lying around. We don't know what our enemies are capable of. The more I travel the world, the more I learn how little we know about what's lurking in it."

  Nak pursed his lips, quill hovering over his parchment. "Am I supposed to write this damned stuff down or not?"

  Olivander raised an eyebrow. Dante made a brushing gesture. "Oh, go ahead. Better make it short, though, because I'm making you carry it everywhere you go until I get back."

  Nak's quill scratched over the page.

  "If I'm through being interrogated," Dante said, "there's the matter of getting Sorrowen accepted into the Mallish priesthood. The problem is, he's already left it. Without leave. They'll refuse to let him back in."

  Hunched over his work, Nak glanced up. "Why on earth do you think that?"

  "That's what he told me."

  "You're from Mallon. Don't you know anything about the priesthood?"

  "I grew up in the middle of nowhere, knew nothing about the ether, and ran away almost half my lifetime ago."

  "Ah, that's right, you went straight from nobody to nethermancer. Well, fortunately for us, while the Mallish priesthood does have a central governing body, its twelve orders are largely independent from one another. If I'm not mistaken, young Sorrowen was an acolyte of Taim?"

  "That's right," Dante said. "Who do you think will be most likely to take him in?"

  "Oh, anyone, really. Taim always gets the best and the brightest. The other orders will leap at the chance to take on a young ethermancer."

  "Then we'll go for Gashen. If Mallon's planning for war, his priests will be jockeying for influence in the conflict."

  "Excellent thi
nking. I'll tutor him in Gashen's ways before you depart."

  "What is your timeline?" Olivander said.

  "We leave in a month," Dante said. "That will avoid the worst weather in the pass and have us in Alebolgia by the start of spring."

  "And your objectives in Alebolgia?"

  "Finalize the Collen Basin's alliance with House Osedo, allowing them to shut the Mallish out of the port in Cavana. That'll require us to discover House Itiego's secret Tallas Route. Before or after that, we find Gladdic and we deal with him. Then we come home. I think we can be back by fall."

  Olivander nodded. "And then perhaps your adventuring will be finished."

  With the meeting concluded, Nak toddled off to locate Sorrowen and start on his lessons. Olivander went to draw up a timeline and logistics for the journey. Citadel business consumed the remainder of Dante's day. Tedious stuff, most of it, yet there was something pleasant about being able to make a score of decisions in a single day knowing that dozens of capable people would immediately set to work executing those decisions. It felt like all the world was a Nulladoon field and he was the player. The only one who could see the lay of the land and maneuver his pieces against the Citadel's opponents.

  This was the height of power in action, the kind wielded by Moddegan in Gask and Charles in Mallon. And yet there was something hollow to it. It felt cloistered. Like a monk in his cell reading of great heroes, awful struggles, and glorious triumphs. Dante wanted to feel the wind in his hair. The cold on his face. To see places he'd never seen before and delve into their secrets.

  That felt like true power. As he passed down judgments; consulted with Council members, monks, and nobles; and wrote down accounts of what he'd seen, done, and learned on his travels, a part of him was already impatient to get back in the saddle, ride for hundreds of miles, and sail into unknown waters in search of House Itiego's mysterious spice island.

  As was so often true, wishes could be real sons of bitches. The day after his talks with Sorrowen, Nak, and Olivander, with one day remaining for Raxa to make her decision about whether to join them, Dante's loon pulsed. Frowning, he opened the line.

  "Mr. Dante?" The voice was rough, barnacled with a maritime accent. "This is Jona, sir. Of the Sword of the South."

  "I know who you are," Dante said. "Any news from Captain Naran?"

  "Yes and no." Jona halted for three seconds. "You see, sir, three days ago, the captain made port in Tanar Atain. Now he's gone missing. Like he disappeared from the face of the earth."

  15

  "Missing?" Dante's mouth went as dry as the salted cod favored by the Sword of the South's quartermaster. "You're still in Collen, aren't you? And he's in Tanar Atain? So what exactly defines 'missing'?"

  Jona grunted. "What I mean is we were supposed to speak yesterday afternoon. But we didn't. Nor yesterday evening, nor this morning. Now his loon's not working at all."

  "But you're sure it was working prior to that, when he wasn't responding?"

  "As sure as winter swells. There's a feel to the loons, ain't there? When I try to reach him now, his loon, it's like it's…not there. Like I'm talking into an empty room."

  Dante ran across his chambers to gather his writing instruments and take notes. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone? Was he scheduled to meet anyone? Had he found any leads on Gladdic?"

  "I'll tell you everything I know, sir, but I'll warn you, it ain't much. As I said, three days ago, the Sword reached Tanar Atain. The captain berthed in Aris Osis, the only port open to outsiders. The first day, no one's allowed off the ship. Inspections and tariffs and such. The second day, they're permitted to unload their goods. Captain Naran makes arrangements to tour a few warehouses, see what kinds of cargo he'd like to take on. The first visits were supposed to happen the next day."

  "When he went silent."

  "Dead on, sir."

  "Do you know anything about who he was meeting with?"

  Jona chuckled dryly. "This is Captain Naran, sir. Formerly Mr. Naran, quartermaster from hell. I expect he keeps logs of what time of day he takes his shits and how many times he has to wipe his—"

  "That's wonderful," Dante said. "The names, please?"

  "The first on his list was Oto LoMota." Jona spelled out the name. "Next was Undan Walan. And last was Iko DaNasan."

  "Did Naran tell you anything about them?"

  "He was angling to do business with people he thought might get him closer to finding Gladdic. According to him, LoMota's a bit of a black sheep who comes from a family of priests and so forth." Paper rustled over the loon. "Galan, she does business all across the interior, which the captain seemed to think is noteworthy. And as for DaNasan, it's rumored he has ties with an outfit called the Monsoon. Don't know who or else they are."

  Dante paused while jotting all of this down. "Anything else?"

  "Nothing that leaps between my ears. They'd only just arrived in port, sir. What do you think this could mean?"

  "Naran might have left his loon on without knowing it, draining its nether until the connection collapsed. Or it could have been stolen by a cutpurse—it would resemble exotic jewelry."

  "Is that where you'd stick your bets?"

  "I would bet that someone's taken him prisoner. Either the authorities saw something suspicious on the ship, or Gladdic has people in the city. Either he was smart enough to be looking for Naran, or he's paranoid enough to interrogate anyone coming from Mallon." Dante spilled sand over his ink, blotting it dry. "Hopefully the captain will be questioned and released shortly. We'll leave as soon as we can. If you hear from him, or remember anything else, let me know."

  Jona vowed to do so. Dante shut down the loon. He was about to run and find Blays, then remembered the advantages of his position and sent a page to summon Blays to him, along with Olivander and Nak.

  They assembled in the room they'd met in the day before. Dante didn't bother to sit. "I just heard from our contact in Collen. Captain Naran made landfall in Tanar Atain three days ago. Sometime between yesterday and this morning, we lost contact with him. It could be that something went wrong with his loon, but I'm operating under the assumption he's been captured—or worse. I intend to leave within three days."

  Olivander thrust out his jaw. "To where?"

  "To Javar's Bakery in Gallador. I can't stop thinking about his apple crisps. To Tanar Atain, obviously."

  "There's a real chance that the captain's already dead. Or will be long before you get there."

  Blays scoffed. "Do you think that makes Dante less eager to ride in and stomp it up? There's vengeance to be had, man!"

  Olivander gave Blays a dark look. "'Stomping it up' sounds directly at odds with the idea of reducing our involvement in foreign lands."

  "First, Naran might be jailed indefinitely," Dante said. "And thus in need of rescue. Second, even if he has been killed, we owe it to his crew to make sure they remain free."

  "You owe it to your people in Narashtovik to stay out of harm's way. To keep them out of harm's way. What purpose does this venture serve? What's the value in saving the life of one sea captain—perhaps even his entire crew—versus the cost of your own life if you fail?"

  Nak gave Dante a supplicating bob of his head that was only partially mocking. "It's a fair point, O Esteemed and Nigh-Invincible Bearer of Arawn's Wisdom and Might. Surely this friend of yours knew the dangers he was sailing into."

  "Better than we do," Blays said. "But we have to go back to Collen and the Strip either way. While we're there, we might as well visit a strange new land, and then destroy it."

  "Oh dear. You've fallen prey to Dante's adventurism, too?"

  "When you're safe in this keep, isolated by a thousand miles of winter, it's easy to brush aside what happened in Collen. After all, it's none of our business, is it? People are fighting wars and killing people all the time, and we don't think twice about getting involved." Blays smiled, or grimaced, or something in between. "But I haven't seen those battles. I have seen the
bodies in the caverns of Collen. I can't live with myself if I let Gladdic live. I will send him to the gods, and let them repent what they created."

  "Ah," Nak said. "Well. Yes. There is the moral component. In that case, when would you like your horses ready?"

  ~

  Rather than using the ruined fort all the way out in the forest, they met Raxa under the shadow of the spire of the Cathedral of Ivars. By daylight, and in the middle of the city, she looked like just another young woman out on an errand—off to one of the winter markets, or to place an order at the chandlery.

  "Before you give your decision," Dante said, "our circumstances have changed. If you come with us, you won't have a month to prepare. You'll have three days."

  She glanced at Blays, then back at Dante. "What's up?"

  "It doesn't matter. It won't affect your involvement."

  "If you want me to partner with you, I need to know if you're about to get yourself killed."

  "I don't know enough to answer that question," Dante said. "But the person you'll be looking for might be responsible for our new haste. If Blays and I find him where we're going, that'll shorten the time you have to spend in Bressel."

  "Least you're honest." It was snowing again and Raxa flipped a line of white from the folds of her cloak. "I'll go. But I'm amending our deal. You can have one item back now. The sword or the book, your choice. You get the other when you bring me back to Narashtovik."

  "The terms of the deal were set. There's nothing to negotiate."

  "Okay." She turned and walked off through the snow.

  Blays gave Dante a squinty look, then shook his head and trotted after Raxa. "Quit being so dramatic. He's as stubborn as you are. If you walk away, he's only going to make your life miserable."

  She stopped, back turned, then swore. "You need me more than I need you. What would you do if I walked away with the sword and the book and you never saw me again?"

  Dante gritted his teeth. "I need the book to help teach you."

  "Guess that makes your decision easy."