Blood Solace (Blood Grace Book 2)

by Vela Roth

  The mage spoke in Vulgus, presumably for the benefit of the king, who watched from his chair with a judgmental gaze. Little did the men know they also benefitted the spy in their midst.

  Chrysanthos bowed in return and answered in the same tongue. “An entire hex? How thorough. The Order of Anthros appreciates your eagerness to collaborate on the expedition to Orthros. However, I am afraid you have traversed to Tenebra for nothing. The Akron and the Synthikos have left it to me to invite the necromancer of my choice to join me in the embassy. Basileus and I expect his arrival imminently.”

  The hexmaster subjected Chrysanthos to a momentary silence. “The Inner Eyes have chosen us for this task. I have been told nothing about another necromancer. There is no room in a hex for a seventh mage.”

  “Indeed, that would be a defiance of the laws of magic, wouldn’t it? Alas, I regret to tell you there is no room in the embassy for a hex. Only one necromancer will accompany us. Your instructions must have crossed with his, for he assured me he has the sanction of the Inner Eyes.”

  “One necromancer is hardly sufficient for a penetration into Hesperine lands,” the hexmaster returned. “One is barely enough to see to the casualties of dysentery on the road, to say nothing of the possible death toll once you encounter the heretics. Does this mage you have chosen even have an apprentice to whom he can delegate the corpses?”

  “He is equal to the challenge, I assure you. In fact, he possesses the singular magical expertise this venture demands. With all due respect to your hex, I require his skills.” With a smile like that, Chrysanthos might send someone to the pyre and make them look forward to the trip.

  The black hood replied, “Our hex is steeped in secrets no other mages possess, which we six have practiced together since before you were an apprentice. You wouldn’t want to leave those powers in Tenebra…behind you.”

  Chrysanthos’s expression hardened. “He has promised to give Basileus a demonstration of his unique arts. Perhaps he will agree to let you watch, since you are colleagues.”

  Cassia sat up straighter, leaning forward through the flames. Forewarned was forearmed. The more she knew of the magic Chrysanthos’s chosen necromancer could wield, the better equipped she was to warn the Hesperines.

  “Ah.” Tychon’s face brightened, and he looked at the door from where he stood near at Chrysanthos’s side. “Here he is now, Master. There is no mistaking his aura.”

  Lucis nodded, and the guards opened the solar door. Eudias scurried in, but offered no announcement of Chrysanthos’s guest. The apprentice got out of the way in haste.

  A new fragrance filled the room, one Cassia recognized. Belladonna. From her vantage point, the first things she saw were spurred boots and the hem of a cape. He wore black like the other necromancers, but there the similarities ended.

  This mage’s robes stopped at his knees and revealed leather armor beneath, along with an arsenal of blades and vials. He looked as if a Kyrian apothecary had rolled in the hay with Hypnos himself, and the resulting scion had slaughtered the village butcher for the tools of his trade.

  Chrysanthos smiled and clasped the man’s arm. “Good of you to come.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Hypnos’s bastard sounded as if he has swallowed a bin of gravel, or perhaps had his throat ripped out at some point. “It’s been a month since I last bagged a Hesperine.”

  The words sent a shock through Cassia. She wanted to dismiss them as an empty boast. But she knew better. She had believed there might already be skirmishes between Hesperines errant and mages. Hearing this necromancer confirm it in such blunt terms made her fears real.

  “Basileus, may I present Master Skleros,” Chrysanthos said with relish. “He is Tenebran born, Cordian trained, and battle-hardened.”

  Skleros gave the king a nod, not quite a bow.

  The king nodded in return, studying the knives the mage wore. “The Dexion speaks highly of your years of experience in the field hunting Hesperines.”

  “He is not like any necromancer you have met before,” Chrysanthos said. “You see before you a Gift Collector, whose work it is to make Hesperines pay their dues to the god of death.”

  Chrysanthos was taking an assassin of Hesperines with him to Orthros.

  Skleros turned to the other necromancers, and Cassia saw his face for the first time. Scars twisted his visage. Upon the breast of his leather armor, a glyph of Hypnos was written in long-dried blood. Was that Hesperine blood? The red stain made the eye appear more like a mouth that might open at any moment, ready to devour.

  The Gift Collector’s smile was derisive. “I like to get my hands dirty.”

  “You will work well with us, I can see,” Lucis said.

  The other necromancers stood at arm’s length and made no move to offer their greetings.

  “Master Skleros,” said the hexmaster. “What a surprise. How unusual for a Gift Collector to come out of the shadows and rejoin society. I thought bounties from the Inner Eyes are the only Order business in which those of your profession deign to participate.”

  “The Order has lined my pockets for delivering Hesperines to Hypnos. But I’m not in it for the coin this time. You can’t put a price on a chance like this.”

  The hexmaster shot a pointed glance at the empty space behind Skleros. “You seek to beat your colleagues to the prize, as usual, I take it.”

  “You know each Gift Collector always works alone.” Skleros cast a condescending gaze on the hex. “If you’re good at what you do, it only takes one.”

  “Such humility, Master Skleros,” Chrysanthos jested. “If you downplay your skills any further, I shall have to remind your colleagues of your reputation. I can’t decide which I find more impressive—that you have completed more bounties than any other living Gift Collector, or that you are still living.”

  The hexmaster did not look amused. “This endeavor calls for the most devoted servants of the Order of Hypnos. The Inner Eyes appointed my hex to join you, Dexion, and we came all the way from Cordium for the purpose.”

  Skleros thrust a scroll at the hexmaster. “Don’t try my patience with politics. There’s a reason the Inner Eyes don’t like me to spend much time in Cordium. But I did make a visit there long enough to procure this. I am going to Orthros.”

  The hexmaster drew himself up and unrolled the scroll with great impatience. He spent more time looking at it than necessary for such a short document. Finally he handed it to one of his colleagues, who then handed it back to him.

  With obvious reluctance, the hexmaster concluded, “This appears to be official.”

  Chrysanthos raised a brow at Skleros. “Playing by the rules for a change, my friend?”

  “Only when I have to escort a fastidious Aithourian to Orthros. Don’t expect me to carry you.”

  “I appreciate you making an exception for me. I assure you, I shall clean the mud off my own shoes.” Chrysanthos eyed Skleros’s spurred boots. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of those that would fit me, would you?”

  “I might. If there’s a fire charm in it for me. My smokes don’t light themselves.”

  “We have a bargain. I will start a new fashion when I return home.”

  “Keep talking about when you get home. Work hard to convince yourself you will. It will seem unlikely while I’m working on you.”

  “I have endured worse than the ritual you intend to perform upon me tonight.”

  “No. You haven’t.”

  “What ritual can you mean?” the hexmaster cut in. “Whatever the Dexion requires, we can surely provide.”

  “Shall we excuse your colleagues so they can rest before their return to Cordium?” Chrysanthos asked.

  “I do appreciate your concern for my professional secrets, but that won’t be necessary.” Skleros told the necromancers, “You will assist me and make your magic available to me while I perform the ritual.”

  The hex murmured among themselves in Divine.

  “This is highly
irregular,” said the hexmaster.

  “Take it or leave it,” Skleros replied. “Stay and pay for my knowledge with your magic—or get out.”

  Their murmurs turned into huffs and hisses.

  The hexmaster glared at Skleros. “Some mages of our Order respect their colleagues and their craft. We show proper appreciation for those rare opportunities when necromancers consent to share their arcane secrets with one another. We will remain.”

  Cassia watched Order politics play out before her in miniature. No doubt the hex did want to pry into what Chrysanthos referred to as Skleros’s exclusive skills. What ulterior motive might Skleros have for betraying his secrets, though? Cassia hoped he would show his hand, not just make a show of power.

  “Very well,” said Skleros. “The Dexion has enlisted my services to hide the true nature and magnitude of his power from the Hesperines.”

  Cassia’s heart raced. When the Tenebran embassy departed for Orthros tomorrow, might she carry with her one of the enemy’s greatest magical secrets to offer as a gift to Lio’s people?

  “You performed the same service for Dalos?” the king asked pointedly.

  “Yes. The spell I crafted in preparation for the Equinox Summit was one of my best workings.”

  Chrysanthos smirked. “What a shame when an artist paints a fine fresco upon a wall, only to see the architect’s shoddy work crumble away and destroy his masterpiece.”

  “The fate of my kingdom rests on this ritual you are about to perform. Let us discuss it. I will have no half-explanations and obtuse ramblings.”

  “Would you be so kind as to repeat the lesson you gave me after Dalos’s altercation with the Hesperines?” Chrysanthos made a gracious gesture toward the king. “What you can tell me, you can tell Basileus.”

  “My guards know better than to breathe a word of what is said in this room,” the king informed Skleros.

  “Very good, Basileus,” said Skleros. “If you care for arcane wordage, this process is called essential displacement.”

  “Basileus,” the hexmaster interrupted. “This man seeks to deceive you. Essential displacement is only a theory, and anyone claiming to be able to perform it is nothing but a charlatan.”

  “Theories don’t keep mages alive in battle against Hesperines,” Skleros returned. “Don’t pretend our Order is unaware that Gift Collectors have been practicing essential displacement for decades, and that the Inner Eyes want to get their claws on our methods. This is your lucky day, Hexmaster. You get to watch me work.”

  “I can attest that Skleros’s arts are as effective as he claims,” said the Dexion. “My circle has established a partnership with him for the purposes of our war mages’ diplomatic journeys in Tenebra and now Orthros. I regret to say the only reason it has not been a complete success is that a certain mage was chosen to attend the Equinox Summit.”

  Lucis steepled his fingers. “How does the process work?”

  Skleros answered, “This configuration of essential displacement requires three men. A source, who will have his essence—his magic—displaced. A vessel, who will receive the source’s magic. And a channel, who acts as a living conduit between the source and the vessel.”

  “So I am the source,” said Chrysanthos. “While my magic is displaced from me into a vessel, the Hesperines will be unable to sense my power. Of course a channel is necessary so I can access that power at will should the need arise for me to cast a demanding spell.”

  “Be cautious in drawing your power,” Skleros warned. “Fluctuations could draw Hesperine attention. The amount of magic that I’ll leave in you will be sufficient for routine tasks. The greater portion of your power will await you in your vessel until you have need of it.”

  Chrysanthos pursed his lips. “For Dalos’s vessel, the Synthikos provided a convict. The man remained in our custody in Corona for safekeeping until his usefulness was expended. Should I send for something similar?”

  “No need. I can provide a body from the western wing of my prison.” The king sent off one of his guards.

  “Excellent,” said the Dexion. “The other masters from my party will remain here in Tenebra to ensure the vessel is not disturbed. It wouldn’t do for the prisoner to die until I require it.”

  “Make sure the vessel is fed and given healing if need be,” Skleros advised the king. “The only way to reverse the displacement is to kill the vessel. The Dexion won’t want that to happen until the moment when he’s ready to draw every last quantity of his magic back into himself. Inadvisable until he returns from Orthros.”

  “Now, as for my channel—” Chrysanthos began.

  “Master.” Tychon stepped forward. “It would be my honor to serve you.”

  Chrysanthos shook his head. “That is no task for an apprentice of your ability.”

  Skleros raised an eyebrow at Tychon. “It’s an uncomfortable position, to have another’s magic thrust and drawn through you day after day. But it does require some affinity for the source’s magic to begin with, however slight, to grease the channel.”

  “Eudias will serve,” Chrysanthos said. “As he did for Dalos.”

  “Can we risk taking Eudias to Orthros?” Tychon asked, as if the other apprentice were not standing right there in the room. “The Hesperines will recognize him from the Equinox Summit.”

  “They still believe him to be a Tenebran apprentice,” Chrysanthos answered. “It was not apparent to them that he assisted Dalos with the assassination attempt, since he merely acted as a channel rather than taking an active role in the casting.”

  Now Cassia understood why the poor apprentice had appeared so ill and cowed all the time. What a wretched fate, to be used by your master so.

  “Eudias is unworthy,” Tychon insisted. “I am far more equal to the task. You need someone of strength and dedication.”

  “I need you at full strength,” the Dexion replied.

  “I shall be at full strength, only I shall lend all of it to you.”

  “I must agree with your apprentice,” the king said. “Eudias is unsuitable for the task. We cannot afford to take any chances. The stakes are much higher. Besides, I have another purpose in mind for the boy. My daughter will need an arcane bodyguard in addition to the liegehound and the man-at-arms I already have watching her. None of you should be bothered minding the girl. Eudias will make a suitable shadow for her.”

  Cassia’s sympathy for the apprentice dried up. She was to have Eudias nipping at her heels the entire time she was with the Hesperines? While she had a chance to be with Lio. She could not allow any Cordian to get in her way.

  Chrysanthos put a hand on Tychon’s shoulder. “I am loath to subject you to this.”

  “You are not subjecting me to anything, Master. I am volunteering.”

  The Dexion gave the young man’s shoulder a squeeze, then let him go. “I owe you a bottle of fine spirits upon our return to Corona.”

  Tychon chuckled. “I shall hold you to that, Master.”

  “You’ve a strong aura about you,” Skleros told Tychon. “Channeling for your master will serve to disguise your power as well.” Then the Gift Collector waved a hand at Eudias. “We don’t need to bother with concealment in his case. His aura hasn’t been the same since Dalos’s defeat.”

  A foul taste came to Cassia’s mouth. What sort of arcane scars had Eudias’s masters left on him? She was not sure even an Aithourian apprentice deserved that.

  “See here,” said Chrysanthos, “I will not have my apprentice’s power permanently affected.”

  Skleros shook his head. “It won’t be, because you are smarter than Dalos.”

  Tychon looked to his master. “You know I am not afraid. I would be proud to fall in battle at your side.”

  “If our diplomatic excursion into Orthros costs any lives, it won’t be ours.” Chrysanthos rubbed his hands together. “We are ready then, as soon as the vessel arrives.”

  A sense of anxiety made Cassia rise to her feet. Was it wise of her to s
tay for this? She had never seen magic performed in the king’s solar. The working wouldn’t disrupt the magic that protected her, would it?

  Surely not. Lustra magic was another beast entirely than Ordered magery.

  She mustn’t sacrifice this chance to make as many observations as possible. When she related this event to Hesperines who knew more of magic than she did, they might glean a great deal from her report.

  When the guards returned, they dragged a young man between them. Beneath the filth that covered the prisoner, Cassia recognized the livery of the royal stables. The guards deposited him on the rug in the middle of the room, and he lay there, covering his head with his hands.

  “Here’s a likely one, Dexion,” a guard offered. “He’s not been in the prison long. He’ll last.”

  “He looks fit enough,” said Skleros.

  “Is he strong?” Chrysanthos frowned. “He’s not putting up much of a fight.”

  The guard jabbed a steel-toed boot into the man’s ribcage. “He cares too much for his family to do that, don’t you?”

  The prisoner flinched, but made no outcry.

  An image flashed in Cassia’s mind—Callen prostrate on the floor of a cell in the western wing. Silently she promised the man before her she would see justice done for him too, that she would remember him and his family among all the others who had suffered at the king’s hands.

  Lucis sat back in his chair and observed the mages in front of him as he might a tournament between his warriors. Only there was something different about the sight of him. Something jarred Cassia, which she had seldom seen in the king’s eyes.

  Interest. Even…fascination.

  She stared at him.

  But the mages were arranging themselves for the spell, and she must pay attention. The six offended necromancers stepped back, positioning themselves in a semicircle around the prisoner, opposite the Gift Collector.

  “You’ll want to take a seat,” Skleros told Tychon.

  “As you say, Master.” The apprentice bowed to the king, then sat down in a chair at Chrysanthos’s right hand.