The Black Star (Book 3)

by Edward W. Robertson

  They arrived in Setteven after dark. The main road passed through a sentried gate, but there was nothing to stop a person from entering through the single-family farms surrounding the city's southern approach. Blays did just that. The city always smelled best in winter. Most of its most unpleasant substances were frozen in the gutters, and with few fresh vegetables on hand, people tended to bake copious amounts of bread. The scent of wood smoke was everywhere. It smelled even better after having been on the road.

  He knew the city well enough to find the ideal neighborhood for their stay: a place that was shady enough so that no virtuous soul would ever visit it, yet not so down and dirty that they'd be in harm's way every time they stepped outside. He stabled the horses, and on inquiring with the stable boys, was able to find a room on the top floor of a rowhouse. He paid two weeks' lodging in cash.

  Minn gazed up at a spider that had occupied the upper corner of their room rent-free. "What's our next step?"

  "No idea," Blays said. "Let's go lay eyes on the place and see if that makes us any smarter."

  It was still early evening, but the Endless Pillars were tucked into the hills behind the palace, and getting to them would take long enough that dark would conceal them soon enough. Blays pulled up his hood and got a move on. He kept an eye out for unwanted attention—he had not one, but two infamous identities to be recognized under—but it was dark, he was unkempt and coast-tanned, and the Settevites who could recognize a cleaned-up, well-lit version of himself were probably limited to three or four dozen. To be on the safe side, he took a path through the meaner quarters, aiming significant looks at any men who paid too much attention to the ostensible couple that was himself and Minn.

  They crossed a bridge over the river and walked through a set of rolling hills. The rowhouses there were older but statelier than the one they'd found cheap lodgings in. And then the hills grew too steep for any houses at all.

  But not for a couple of fools who probably should have stayed by the sea and left the questing for those who still had a stake in the world. As they walked down a quiet street that dead-ended in a steep, grassy hill, Minn passed beneath the shadow of a tree and vanished. With the kellevurt's help, Blays shrouded himself in darkness. This had the less than ideal side effect of blinding him, but Minn's hand found his. She led him through the frosted grass. The land climbed for a while, then began to descend.

  Minn squeezed his hand. "Ought to be safe now."

  He let the shadowsphere drop away, blinking at the starlight. They were in a cleft between hills, hidden from the vast capital below. A series of hills and short cliffs stood before them. The next leg of their journey was less than half a mile as the crow flies, but it involved a great deal of climbing up and down. Three times, they had to backtrack when the way forward was too steep.

  An hour later, they crested a ridge. An ovoid valley lay below. The Endless Pillars were more than just a name: in the center of the valley, a circle of white pillars enclosed a lawn and a complex of stone buildings. Each pillar was as broad as a horse's chest, but some were knee-high stumps while others stood thirty feet or more, with all heights in between. The central building was round and a good sixty feet high, with a flat roof and classically arched windows. The surrounding buildings had the simple elegance of older times. A few lanterns burned around the pillars and at points on the lawn, but they saw no one.

  "Think you can sneak in?" Blays said.

  "Think they leave the door open?" Minn said. "Before I were to get inside, I'd need to know exactly what to look for. Even then, if one of their sorcerers were paying attention, it would be easy enough to spot me."

  "Back when I used to hang around the palace, gossip often turned to the Pillars. It's basically a self-contained village. Like all villages, rumors fly fast and furious within it. I hear the court's sorcerers are treated like circus bears—cared for, but kept in a cage. Except when it's time to put on a show."

  "So we won't be able to get inside. Or talk to them. Yet besides the king himself, they're the only ones who'll know about his plans toward Cellen. I hate to cast doubt before we've tried to lift the stone, but how are we supposed to get this done?"

  "This is exactly why I continue to run short on ideas."

  Minn bit her lip. "I could join them."

  "Except that would be crazy."

  "I'm not the Pocket's biggest whale, but I bet I'd be the most promising student to come here in years. They won't be able to turn me down. Once I'm embedded with them, who knows what I'll see?"

  It was kind of an incredible idea. Much less roundabout and more effective than anything he was liable to come up with. He couldn't volunteer himself—too much of a chance he'd be recognized—but Minn would be an irresistible talent. It was a scheme right out of the old days.

  But that was the problem. Back then, they'd always been so eager to get what they wanted they'd given no regard to the cost.

  "You can't," he said. "Once you're in, they won't let you back out."

  "Who's going to stop me?"

  "The staff!" he blurted.

  Minn muffled her laughter. "What are they going to do, cross their rakes in front of me? When I decide to leave, they won't even be able to see me."

  "In any institution, the staff always knows more about what's going on than its own leaders. This makes the help bitter. And that makes them susceptible to bribes. Sometimes they'll spill their guts out of sheer spite!"

  She looked down on the grounds. "Do the staff get to leave?"

  "They work in shifts. Two weeks here, two weeks home with their families. Something like that. I talked to one at a ball once."

  "Do you really think the servants are going to know—what, exactly? The precise curve in the king's intestines where he's pocketed the Golden Key?"

  "Well, we won't know that until we kidnap and torture them." He couldn't stop his smile. "We will inquire discreetly, misrepresenting our interests. If that doesn't work, we'll try your plan to voluntarily imprison yourself."

  Getting a line on the Endless Pillars' servants proved harder than he would have believed. The first time Minn asked a man if he knew any of them—Blays was trying to keep his direct contact with people to a minimum—the man behind the bar asked why she wanted to know, and when she hesitated, he showed her straight to the door.

  "New approach," Blays said. "You're looking for employment at the Pillars. You yearn to be part of such a glorious institution. You know they're beyond selective with their employment, so you're looking for someone who can grease the skids by providing you with an introduction."

  "We can sweeten the deal by claiming that if I'm hired due to their introduction, I'll pay them ten percent of my first year's wages."

  "That is devious business," Blays laughed.

  "That's why it will get results."

  An hour and three pubs later, her bait caught a strike. One of the runners had a friend whose sister worked at the Pillars. Better yet, she was currently on leave with her family. After exchanging a few notes and settling on a sum for the woman's time, the runner arranged a meet in the pub for that same night.

  "Ever done something like this before?" Blays said once they'd returned to their apartment.

  "What?" Minn held at arm's length the long-sleeved shirt they'd bought to make her look the part. "Lied to someone about my intentions in order to learn whether the ancient order of sorcerers that employs them is on the verge of capturing an item of unspeakable power?"

  "Asking about something you don't care about while trying to extract information about the thing you do care about. I suppose that's a daft question, isn't it? We all do that every day."

  "I've never done it professionally, though. You'll be there to chaperone me, won't you?"

  That was the upside of a city where women weren't supposed to meet strangers on their own, yet still had to contend with annoyances like "feeding themselves" and "not freezing in the street": Blays had a ready-made reason to accompany her (and to go arme
d). When the hour came, they walked down the dark streets to the public house and went upstairs to the appointed room on the third floor. Blays made sure the shutters were cracked open, wishing they'd done this on the second floor instead. Much easier to land a jump without breaking a leg from ten feet up instead of twenty. There wasn't even any good garbage below them. Major oversight on his part.

  Minn wasn't exactly helpless, though. And he'd added a few tricks to his own repertoire. Kept forgetting that.

  Footsteps carried down the hall. A bearded man opened the door a hands-width, glanced at Blays and Minn, and opened the door the rest of the way. A thin woman entered. Her brown hair was unusually short. She had the worn look of someone whose life is spent at the behest of others, scuffed and chipped about her edges like an old table. But there was nothing dull in her eyes. She turned to the man and nodded.

  "I'll be right outside." Reluctantly, he exited, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  Minn clinked a small pouch on the table. "Thank you for coming to see me."

  "You can't buy your way into the Pillars." The woman stared at the pouch, then swept it up. "If you're worthy, they'll see it." She seated herself with a short glance at Blays.

  Minn scooted her chair forward. "What do they consider worthy?"

  "Foremost? Trust."

  "As in a letter of recommendation?"

  The woman laughed. "Candidates spend three months in a barracks in the hills before they're even allowed into the Pillars. There, you will be taught to obey without question. To anticipate your master's wants before he has them. To serve the servants of the heavens, you must learn to work in harmony."

  "I've heard even the heavens aren't so harmonious these days."

  "I doubt it's as dire as you've been told," she said dryly.

  "So it is out of balance?" Minn said. "Would it be a poor time to approach the Endless Pillars?"

  "That matter will be resolved before you're out of the barracks."

  "Then they're near a solution?"

  At his place at the wall, Blays held his breath. The woman turned down the corners of her mouth. "The Pillars are a foundry of wonders. Those who cannot set down their curiosity have no place there."

  Smartly, Minn backed off, asking what the application process was like. It sounded very involved and might have been fascinating under different circumstances, but Blays had the distinct impression they'd already gotten as close to their answers as they were going to in this conversation. Still, they'd paid their money; it was possible that the woman (who'd refused to give her name) might drop something they could follow up on elsewhere. Besides, quitting early would only draw suspicion.

  After close to an hour, Minn nodded to herself, appearing to absorb the woman's last response. She gazed at her hands. "This has been extremely helpful. Do you know anyone else who might be willing to talk?"

  "This isn't the sort of thing we're supposed to do. I'm only here because of my boy."

  "I understand. But I have the impression I'll only have one chance to get this right."

  "We'll see about that," the woman said. She went to the door and exited. The bearded man glanced inside, then followed her down the hall.

  "I'm sorry," Minn said quietly.

  "She wasn't the type to feed us what we wanted on a platter," Blays said. "Anyway, we learned a few things. Such as the fact you shouldn't actually try to join the staff. The hunt for Cellen will be over before you even graduate to the Pillars."

  "I feel like I should have gotten more."

  "You were the one talking about how silly this is and the king's intestines and so forth. Come on, what else did we learn?"

  "That even the servants know something is happening." She rested her chin on her fists. "What if all they've found is knowledge? How do we take that away from them?"

  "We could try removing their heads."

  "We need an inside source. I don't see any way around it."

  He didn't, either. About the only way to get one of those was to kidnap and torture a wizard (a sticky endeavor) or bribe their way up the staff. Right now, his single connection to that staff was an unnamed woman who might or might not have one of her friends talk to them later.

  He didn't like that. But he didn't have any other resources to pursue. They were starting from scratch. You can only build so quickly without the walls falling in on you.

  During the next few days of waiting, he thought about going to Taya and seeing what she could turn up. He knew she'd be happy to help, but that was the problem. He didn't want to drag her into this. Investigating the Endless Pillars was like poking a hornet's nest. One where the hornets could summon invisible spears and kill you twice before you had the chance to think Oh dear, this was an error in judgment.

  Taya had no business with that. He'd already exposed her to an unnecessary dimension of danger when Dante had come calling. Blays didn't intend to repeat his mistakes.

  So he and Minn took the slow route. She made the rounds of the pubs, spreading the word that she'd pay well to be able to talk with any of the Pillars' servants. One time, they went back to the hills to gaze on the grounds and brainstorm a way to break in, but the core problem remained the same: even if they got inside, they wouldn't know what they were looking for.

  It did, however, give him one idea. Spy on the place from afar, and when one of the big fish emerged to take a trip to the palace, Minn could shadowalk in behind them to eavesdrop on whatever conversation the king had summoned them for. It was a little on the crazy side, but if nothing panned out on the servant front, he thought it could work.

  They didn't turn up any more servants, but five days after Minn's interview with the woman, they checked in at the inn where they'd met with her and found a note waiting. She had a friend who was willing to talk. A person who had been with the Pillars for almost two decades. Through notes, Blays scheduled another late-night meet, this time at an inn within spitting distance of the Street of Kings.

  They arrived early and headed up to the room. Fourth floor, this time; everything lower had been sold out. Blays pried open the shutters and took a look at the side of the building. No fire ladders or anything like that, but decorative iron rails hung above the windows. Would make climbing down a little bit easier.

  Below, a coin jingled across the flagstones. A man walked over to pick it up. As he crouched down, a sword angled from his belt. His cloak swung open, revealing a flash of red.

  In the window, Blays went still. The man walked back into the shadows of the buildings across from the inn. Blays picked out two more men hidden in the gloom.

  He touched the hilts of his swords. "We have to get out of here."

  Minn glanced over her shoulder. "What's wrong? He'll be here any minute."

  "I doubt that. I think the only attendees of this soiree will be a dozen armed guards."

  She was about to say something, but rustling noises sounded from the hall. She popped up and slipped the door's bolt into its lock. She had no sooner removed her hand from it when the door rattled softly.

  Someone banged on the other side. "Open up and lay down your arms!"

  Blays peered around the edge of the window. The guards in the alley were staring up at the room. If he and Minn tried to climb down, they'd be hacked to ribbons.

  From the hall, a guard slammed into the door, splintering the frame. Blays' heart hammered. One more bash would knock it wide open.

  Before he could reach for his swords—and to his great surprise—he disappeared.

  27

  "The stories from the Cycle of Jeren are more than stories," Dante said. "They're a history. Of a land that was changed forever."

  "You're talking about Weslee?" Lew said.

  "Long ago, there was a flood. One beyond our comprehension. Maybe it began as a thunderstorm—I don't know. I only know that the people in Morrive tried to wait it out in the basement. And all were drowned. Except a few who made it to the roof. I don't know what happened to them. They left one messag
e: Arawn's Mill has fallen, and the waters of heaven fell to earth with it."

  Dante gestured into the gorge he'd carved into the ground. "Those trees down there weren't washed here by the flood. They grew here. This land used to be a forest."

  "How do you know that?" Cee said. "Talking to the ghosts in the basement, were you?"

  "Because Ellan used to be a desert. The Echoes are full of sand. Something caused it to stop raining here and start raining there." He paused, then spat it out. "I believe that something is the Woduns."

  Lew's brow crinkled. "I don't get it. They're mountains. Proverbial for being eternal."

  "I think that someone—maybe Arawn himself—created the Woduns to separate Gask from Weslee. That's why everything here is so strange. In an instant, everything was changed. Not just the people, but the lands themselves. If you know how to listen, you can still hear the echoes of the way it used to be."

  "Gask seems to have survived just fine. And if this is true, why don't we have any accounts of the giant mountain range Arawn erected to stop the children from fighting?"

  "I don't know," Dante said. "Maybe there are marks on Gask. We've never known to look."

  Somburr laughed the laugh of a man who's seen through a card trick. "This is why the Minister means to invade Narashtovik. He blames us for the devastation of Weslee."

  "That's insane. We didn't rain cataclysm on this place. Even if we had, it's been centuries since then."

  "And memory lives no longer than people? Then why do we dress in Arawn's colors and devote our lives to a book written a thousand years before we were born?"

  Dante was about to protest they didn't go to war over such things, then remembered Samarand had done just that. In response to another set of ancient beliefs. "All fires need fuel. Even if he thinks Narashtovik is to blame, we haven't had regular contact with Weslee since before the Cycle of Jeren was written."