The Black Star (Book 3)

by Edward W. Robertson

  She moved down. He eased the door shut. Its latch clicked, but the sound was muffled by the snap of the fire. They felt their way down step by step. Once they were at the bottom, Minn summoned a faint white light. A banded door barred their path.

  Blays got the handful of metal pins from his pocket, careful not to jab himself on the needles. Most locks were dumber than a boiled frog and this one was no different. He sprung it in seconds. The door opened, presenting them with harsh cold and the smell of feces.

  Minn's expression hardened. Doors stood on both sides of the corridor. Most were unlocked, the rooms beyond filled with bottles, casks, sacks, chests, and old furniture concealed under dusty sheets. Much of the storage seemed devoted to cobwebs and rat turds. They checked room to room until they came to a door that wouldn't budge.

  "He's in there," Minn whispered.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because it feels like my brain is about to spray out both ears like flame from a dragon's nostrils."

  He set to work on the door. Its lock was stickier than the first, and he had to scrabble around at it for so long that he began to doubt anyone was behind it, certain the noise would have woken them.

  At last, the lock clicked. And he saw why there had been no response from within.

  The man huddled in a blanket, his pale shins projecting from its end. He smelled as bad as he looked. Sores glared from his face. His left hand clutched the end of the blanket. It was heavily bandaged and crusted with old blood.

  "Cal!" Minn rushed to him, sweeping him up in her arms.

  He jarred awake and scrabbled back. His eyes locked on hers. Fear melted to confusion, then disbelief. "Minn?"

  "Don't move. You'll feel better in a moment."

  She got out a knife and nicked the back of her wrist. Shadows swarmed from her to him. His eyelids fluttered. The sores on his face skinned over. The hitch in his breathing soothed. He shook his bandaged hand, then scratched at it. When Minn fell back, he still looked like a man who'd spent too long at sea, but he was able to stand, keeping his blanket around his bare skin.

  "How did you do that?" He glanced at Blays. "And who is he?"

  "A man of many talents." Minn grinned so wide it was a wonder her teeth didn't fall out. "Your dad's outside. Take my cloak. Can you walk?"

  Something scraped upstairs. It was faint, yet Blays pegged it at once: the unmistakable sound of someone moving less quietly than they believed. Something twitched from the corner of the room. There, a rat stood on its hind legs. One of its eyes was missing. The other was glassy, but fixed firmly on him.

  "We've been seen," he breathed.

  "By who?" Minn said. "Ourselves?"

  "Tallivand is a nethermancer." He drew one of his swords. "And we're in deep shit."

  He closed on the rat. Before it had a chance to react, he hacked it in half, then cut its head in two for good measure. "Come on."

  They followed him into the hall. Two doors down, he ducked into one of the storage rooms and made to get behind a barrel.

  "What are you doing?" Minn said. "We can't hide. If she knows the nether, I'm the only one who can stand against her."

  She was right. This pissed him off beyond measure. "At the risk of sounding like a coward, do you think you can sneak up on her?"

  "Could be. I doubt she'll be expecting one of her own."

  He moved back to the corridor, wishing they'd left the doors open. "Shadowalk up to the door and open it as softly as you can. If anyone comes down, I'll deal with them. If not, have a look around and let us know if it's clear. Sound good?"

  "Good enough," she said. She hugged Cal again. "If anything happens to me, follow Blays. He'll get you out of here."

  Cal nodded, fighting down his confusion. Minn smiled wanly and vanished. Cal gasped and staggered back into Blays.

  "She's pretty talented, right?" Blays whispered.

  He moved back into the darkness of the storage room. Minn's feet whispered up the steps. The door creaked. Blays' heart thundered. After fifteen beats, boots rasped on the steps. The tip of a sword moved past the doorway. As soon as he saw the man's elbow, Blays burst forward, driving his sword into where he gauged the neck would be. His aim was true. The man dropped, gargling blood to the bare stone floor. Blays followed him down and severed his spine. The man went silent.

  Blays waited, gazing up the black stairwell. The darkness was so complete he saw sparks swimming in his eyes; the silence was so total he heard the hum of his blood in his ears.

  Upstairs, the door inched open. He held his position. Thirty seconds later, he felt warmth on his cheek. Minn swam into place beside him.

  "Looks clear," she whispered.

  "We can't stay down here all night." Blays drew his second sword. "I'll lead with Cal. Please, for the sake of me not dying in a stranger's basement, if you see any sign of shadows, strike her dead."

  She nodded. He turned to Cal. Cal gripped his shoulder. They began their ascent. The treads sided with him, maintaining their silence. Up top, the diffused glow of the fire granted barely enough light to make out the floor. After a look around, he stepped out, Cal holding onto him for strength. Blays reached into the nether, trying to sense its presence in other bodies, but felt nothing.

  He waited for a full minute, but heard nothing but the crackle of the fire. He brought Cal to the wall and moved in the direction of the sun room. A quarter of the way around the broad column housing the fireplace, he stopped for a quick look around. Shadows wavered, but the room was as empty as before.

  Something sizzled through the air. Blays jerked Cal down. A cold force struck his back. He shouted involuntarily. Pain shot through him, but rather than plowing through him, the bolt of shadows exploded in a bloom of heatless sparks. Minn shimmered into view, arm outstretched toward the landing, nether dripping from her hands.

  Bodyguards charged into the room bearing swords and spears, blocking the way to the sun room. Blays didn't fear them. He feared the woman silhouetted on the landing. The woman whose hands were balls of darkness.

  Glass shattered from the front of the house. Blays shoved Cal back toward the door to the basement. "Get downstairs!"

  Tallivand's bodyguards tore across the room. They'd be on him in a moment. Without waiting to see if Cal was following orders, Blays sprinted to the left wing of the double staircase to the upper floors, vaulting the rail. Wood splintered behind him, pinging his cloak. He hit the stairs running. Below, three men chased him while the other five turned and ran toward the sound of the broken glass. Jinsen's voice rang out.

  Blays reached the second floor landing. Tallivand backpedaled, banging into a wall. Nether streaked from her fingers. From downstairs, Minn deflected the first bolt. The second hit Blays' feet. He cringed, expecting them to be sheared off at the ankle. Instead, they rooted to the ground. He crashed on his face.

  He fought to stand, but his feet wouldn't move. The guards pounded up the steps. Tallivand and Minn faced each other, grappling with half-seen forces. Blays' feet were stuck fast, but he was able to twist around to a sitting position. He had held onto both swords during the fall.

  The first of the guards was upon him. Smirking, the man reached out as far as he could, driving his sword at Blays' chest. Blays flung himself to the side and twisted out of the way of the incoming blade. Fresh pain tore through his wounded shoulder.

  He dropped his left-hand sword and snapped at the man's wrist. This was out of reach, so he snagged the man's cross-guard instead and leaned back with all his weight. If the bodyguard had had a moment to think, he would have simply let go, but the instinct to pull back won out. Already leaning toward him, off balance, the man was unable to resist. He fell forward, plunging straight onto Blays' right-hand sword.

  The man was beginning to shriek as a spear darted at Blays. Blays flattened himself, leveraging the impaled guard up. The spear gored the man in the back. Blays rocked forward and pushed him off his sword, tumbling him down the stairs into the legs of the spea
rman. They fell in a tangle, lodging against the wall. The third guard grabbed the dropped spear and raised it high, its iron point shining in the firelight.

  Across the room, both women screamed. Blays' feet yanked free of their unnatural roots. He kicked back from the soldiers, grabbing for his fallen second sword. The spear clunked into the landing and withdrew. Blays followed it in. The man wheeled his spear, but its butt whacked against the wall. Blays smacked it aside with one sword and drove his second into the man's heart. While he was there, he took care of the tripped man, who was still fighting to free himself from his friend's dead weight.

  The stairs were now clear; men were hollering across the ground floor, maneuvering around tables, throwing knives and vases at each other. On the landing, Tallivand crumpled to one knee, holding her bleeding hip. Below, Minn lay prone, crawling toward the pocket of safety beneath the landing.

  Blays ran toward Tallivand and put the edge of his sword to her throat. "Bad news: I know the nether, too. Not well, mind you. But if I see you make the slightest move toward it, you'll see how good I am with a sword."

  Her eyes danced between his. She was in her mid-fifties, black hair hanging in two braids. She was dressed in a dark nightgown and she looked very afraid. "Who are you?"

  "Mean," Blays said. "Call off your men. No one else needs to die."

  She licked her lips, then turned her head to look downstairs, wincing as the motion pressed the sword against her skin.

  "Stand down!" she called. Swords clanged below. She snarled. "I said stand down!"

  The swordplay ceased. A man backed toward the stairs, glancing over his shoulder. "Ma'am?"

  "Put down your weapons before this man puts his through my throat."

  More guards backed into the firelight. They glanced between each other, then set down their swords. Dennie and Jinsen advanced, accompanied by their troops.

  "Are you all right?" Dennie shouted.

  "Help Minn!" Blays said. "Cal's in the basement. He's beat up, but he's fine."

  Dennie and two guards jogged beneath the landing. Jinsen and the others escorted Tallivand's soldiers away.

  "This was about the Almanack, wasn't it?" Blays said.

  Tallivand nodded carefully. "I'm just an agent. This wasn't my idea."

  "Then what, you stumbled into Cal Stotts in the street and he wound up in your pocket?"

  "I won't deny what I've done. But the people holding my reins are worth much more than my life."

  Blays laughed humorlessly. "I'm not so sure about that."

  "Is that so?" A hint of mockery entered her eyes. "Do you place so little value on the head of your king?"

  His heart did painful things in his chest. "The king? Moddegan sent you?"

  "Do I have your interest now?"

  "Indeed. Now we're going to sit here until people with the authority to make decisions arrive."

  This took a while, but Blays didn't mind the breather. After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes, the others reconvened downstairs. Minn and Cal could move around but weren't in great shape—they'd found Cal some clothes, at least—so Blays walked Tallivand downstairs, still holding his sword to her neck.

  "Care to have your brains melted?" he asked them. "She's working for the king."

  Dennie put himself nose to nose with her. "Why were you mutilating my son over a book?"

  "The finger was as far as we intended to go," Tallivand said. "You'll note we made sure to clip it from his off hand."

  "Why, you're a model of mercy!"

  "Given what my lord was willing to do to attain the book? I was saintly."

  "Answer the question," Blays said.

  Tallivand's face contorted in thought. She gave a short sigh through her nose. "He wanted the book because he thought it would lead him to Cellen."

  This last bit was gibberish to Blays. Dennie appeared equally nonplussed. Cal looked like he wanted a meal and a bath. But Minn had the expression of someone who's been stuck in the stomach with a spear.

  "He thinks it's back?" she said.

  "There are signs," Tallivand said. "Strong signs."

  "Strong enough to kill for?" Minn grimaced. "Then again, any sign of Cellen would tempt him."

  Tallivand nodded, then smiled oddly. "You fight well, lady. Who trained you?"

  Minn smiled back. "No one you'd know."

  "Right," Blays said. "What is happening right now?"

  "Let's be clear: we're bargaining for your life," Minn said to Tallivand, entirely ignoring Blays. "What else can you toss on the table?"

  She laughed. "What could be better than Cellen?"

  "How is he so sure? And how does he intend to find it?"

  "The lights in the Woduns. The creatures we've been finding in the Ripping Sea. Other things I'm not privy to. As to how he means to get it, I can't say. It was my job to bring him the Almanack—at all costs. If I return with nothing, I'll be killed on the spot."

  "It would be finely deserved," Dennie said.

  "I think I believe her," Blays said.

  "Surely you don't think we should let her go."

  "I've interrogated a lot of assholes over the years. True believers never give up what you want to hear. She doesn't give two shits about Moddegan. She just wants to survive."

  Minn laughed. "You think that makes her more trustworthy?"

  "I wouldn't take her out for drinks," Blays said. "But I know Moddegan well enough to believe she can never cross his sight again."

  "She hurt Cal," Dennie said. "Took his finger."

  "It's your call. And good luck with it. While you're doing that, would someone care to do me the favor of explaining what the hell Cellen is?"

  Minn and Tallivand exchanged looks. Tallivand spoke first. "We believe it is a source of pure nether. One that, in able hands, can be put to almost any use."

  "What's your take?" he asked Minn.

  "That's what I've been taught." She frowned at Tallivand. "But it's been more than a millennium since it last manifested."

  Tallivand could only shrug.

  Dennie paced around her. "If you left here tonight, where would you go?"

  "Mallon," she said without hesitation. "I might try Narashtovik—they have no love for Moddegan and are hungry for talent—but I'd fear that's not nearly far enough for me to run."

  Dennie turned to his son. "I'd give you the choice, but that would shift the responsibility to your shoulders. How do you feel?"

  "I don't care," Cal said. "I just want to go home."

  "Leave now," Dennie declared to Tallivand. "Go alone. And never let me see you in Gallador or Gask again."

  She eyed him, expecting some trick, then bowed her head. "You won't regret it."

  "I do already."

  She showed no sign of offense. She limped over to a rack, slung a long coat over her shoulders, and took a lantern from the wall. Geared for travel, she trudged toward the front room. Broken glass tinkled under her steps. Her lantern faded into the night.

  "There's nothing more to keep us here," Dennie said. "Anyway, the longer we stick around, the more likely our fleet is to attack the wrong house!"

  A couple of his men chuckled. Some of them bore bandaged cuts, but none had suffered serious injury. Minn had a gouge to the left side of her ribs and another on her left triceps, but appeared to have it under control. Blays lent her a hand outside while Dennie saw to Cal and Jinsen oversaw the troops. They hiked to the path on the ridge and followed it to the pier where they'd tied up the sloop. Once they were on the water, they flashed their lanterns at the lurking cutter and both boats sailed for home. Dennie found Blays in the bow cleaning his swords.

  "If I gauge you right, you'd be insulted if I offered you money for your help," Dennie said. "But I owe you more than I own."

  "You've misjudged me completely," Blays said. "I'm happy to take your money. This time, I might even need it."

  "Going on a trip?"

  "I think so. Don't suppose you know an all-night st
able in town?"

  "Afraid not." Dennie scratched his goatee. "But I can have a horse for you first thing in the morning."

  Blays figured he could use the sleep anyway. The boats docked at Dennie's pier and Blays helped unload the few supplies they'd brought for the raid. Dennie saw Cal inside. Once Blays finished, he stood on the dock watching the moon on the water.

  "Uncle Dennie made it sound like you're leaving," Minn said.

  He gave her the eye. "After a night like tonight, it's not prudent to startle the guy with the swords."

  "Is he right?"

  "I'm afraid my travels have been extended." Blays slicked back his grimy hair. "It's time for me to pay homage to the king."

  25

  There ensued an incredulous silence.

  "He's going to attack Narashtovik?" Dante laughed. "Using what, the Eagle King and his faithful legions? He could never get an army across the Woduns."

  "Unless," Somburr said.

  Dante sobered abruptly. "He couldn't."

  "Oh no," Lew said. "Is that why he wants Cellen?"

  "It fits," Somburr said. "If it's as powerful as everyone believes, the mountains won't be an obstacle."

  Dante flapped his hands. "What could he possibly want with Narashtovik?"

  "The letters are opaque as to his motivations."

  "For that matter, how did you manage to crack them? I thought you'd barely made any progress."

  "I hadn't," Somburr said. "So when Kasee took her people to their ill-fated ambush, I broke into their house and stole their translations."

  "What do they say about Narashtovik?"

  "They refer to the target as the 'City of Nine Fragments.' Archaic reference to the city's war-torn history."

  "Narashtovik is built on a plain," Dante said. "That could be why the Minister is drilling his troops in the lowlands. Even so, why us?"

  "There's more." Somburr passed him a decoded letter. "This details their involvement in Ellan. It consists of two parts. First, procuring materiel. Second, hiring teams of merchants—specifically, those with experience dealing with Tev, Kirkit, and beyond." He raised his eyebrows significantly, receiving a chorus of blank looks in reply. "People, in other words, with great skill at transporting goods over long and treacherous routes."