Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  While leading them to the Foundry District, the guards kept to the main roads and avenues. Dusan was talkative, telling them anecdotes about life in Almeria and how he grew up around draks while helping his parents run a farm and livery just outside of the city. He seemed to have a story for every landmark, from the drunken band of brawlers picking fights with everyone who came by the fountain dedicated to Pacha, god of madness and wine, to the mad, old woman who wandered town covered in pigeons which she threw at anyone who stepped into her path.

  Mirek was quieter. He was the son of a blacksmith and grew up in the Foundry District but lacked the desire to keep the smithy operating after his father died two winters prior. His eyes scanned the buildings and people, looking for troublemakers and threats. He pointed out important buildings to them as they passed: the Hall of Justice; the Sky Temple dedicated to Tinian, king of the gods; the Grand Duchess, the finest inn in all of Almeria and with which Kale and Delilah were already familiar.

  Kale noticed the city was less busy than it was before the snow, but the people they encountered seemed friendlier and less frantic. He thought at first it was because they had an armed escort.

  "Most of the people who are too busy for other folks don't come out when there's this much snow." Dusan stopped by a small fountain at the end of a plaza. The fountain's carvings depicted a curly-haired bearded man drinking from a cup: Dolios, god of commerce and gambling. The fountain was frozen over, sheets of ice draped down from the spouts high on the wall, like giant white beards. "Folks have to rely on each other more when it’s this cold and snowy, and those busybodies are too selfish to get involved with that."

  Mirek pointed to a shop across the way. A tree protruded from the top of the building, spreading its snow-covered canopy over the roof like a parasol. "Several drak merchants are set up in that building. Clothes, tools, handicrafts, that sort of thing. The Howling Siren Alehouse is right next door. That's where we'll be."

  "I know we're supposed to keep our eyes on you the whole time, but we'll just be in the way in those shops." Dusan knelt down as he spoke to the drak twins. "When you're finished, come join us for an ale, and we'll head back to the palace. You should be able to get anything you want in there. If not, we'll take you somewhere else, all right?"

  "Sounds good to me." Kale grinned. If having an escort meant people left them alone, while the guards sat in a tavern and he and his sister shopped for the items they needed, he could live with it.

  Delilah seemed pleased, too. "Fine, fine. Just don't drink all the ale before we get back!"

  The shops were arranged around a central parlor. Benches and chairs encircled the tree trunk, and several humans mingled with the draks. Delilah's eyes lit up, and she made a beeline for a corner shop selling jewelry. Kale followed her until he saw a haberdasher.

  Hats, hoods, snoods, and bonnets of various fabrics and spanning the gamut of adornment from plain to gaudy, the shop had it all. Kale looked around in wonder.

  "Hats for draks?" A drak with midnight-blue scales appeared from behind a rack, a wide-brimmed hat sitting on his head at a rakish tilt. He winked at Kale. "We don't need all the fancy pants and frocks and brass-buttoned coats and smocks the humans do, but a fine covering for your noggin"—he rapped his knuckles on Kale's head—"is what we sell for a bargain!"

  Kale's mouth dropped open as the dark drak danced around him and grinned. He slapped his hands together and bowed, the feather stuck in his hat band dipped forward to tickle Kale's nose. "So, what'll it be?"

  Holding up his hands, Kale backed away. "I think I'm in the wrong shop."

  "You didn't want to look at hats, but you walked into a haberdasher?"

  "Well, um…" Kale knew any excuse he fabricated would likely insult the shopkeeper.

  "Oh, I understand. You're from one of those small villages, aren't you? All the pomp and wonder of the city is too much for you, and I came on too strong, didn't I?" The shopkeeper put his arm around Kale's shoulders. "I know how that feels all too well. I'm from a small village myself. Rockton. Boring place, full of quarries and mines. All but gone now." He pulled Kale over to a mirror and placed a bonnet on his head. The black-and-red checked pattern on the bonnet matched Kale's scales, and a fuzzy green pom-pom crowned it. Kale's lips curled in derision.

  "Hey now, one of my hats will make the females back home ache to raise a clutch with you."

  Kale pulled the bonnet off his head, snagging it on one of his horns. The shopkeeper clucked his tongue and plucked it out of Kale's hands. "All right, fine, not your style, eh? Look around, we’re sure to have something to suit your fancy."

  "I was just curious. That's all. We don't have shops like this back home."

  The shopkeeper pulled another hat off a rack and passed it to Kale. It was wide brimmed, similar to the one he was wearing. Fashioned from soft, supple black leather, one side of the brim was turned up, held in place with a bejeweled gold pin. A pair of long silvery-black feathers swept back from the crown.

  Kale turned it over in his hands and examined it. The fine craftsmanship was evident in the tightness of the seams and weight of the material. It was shaped to fit onto a drak's head, as well, and when he tried it on, he noticed his horns did not snag, but rather nestled in and helped to secure it to his head.

  "Well, that certainly makes my eggs ache." A familiar voice behind Kale startled him. He felt clawed hands on his shoulders, and then Kali's head appeared over his shoulder and peered at him in the mirror.

  "Kali! A pleasure to see you in the shop, as always." The shopkeeper bowed and smiled at her. "What can I do for you?"

  "Not a thing, Calev. I saw Kale come in and thought I'd have a word with him."

  Kale turned around. "Hello, Kali." He removed the hat and held it out to Calev.

  Kali pulled his arm away. "It's on the house, isn't it, Calev? A gift for our new friend." Kali tossed her heavy, black cloak over her shoulder. It was lined with brown fur. Flakes of snow still encrusted the tips of the fur lining around the hood.

  The shopkeeper's smile vanished. He titled his head and half-bowed in acquiescence. "Certainly, Kali. Anything for you."

  Kali took Kale's arm. "Let's talk a moment, shall we?" She led him out of the shop into the parlor and sat down on one of the benches near the tree. She took the hat out of his hands and placed it back on his head. "It suits you. It makes you look roguishly handsome."

  "Thanks." Kale felt his cheeks become hot and his stomach twist into knots. He clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling."

  "I see they let you out. Or did you escape?" Kali kept her hands on his.

  "They let us out, with an escort."

  "Us? Your sister and minotaur friend are here with you?" Kali looked around the parlor. "I see neither them nor an escort."

  Kale looked toward the shop into which his sister disappeared but didn't see her. "Just me and Delilah. Pancras has to stay in the palace when we're out, to ensure we come back. The guards are nice, though. They're waiting for us in the tavern next door."

  "There are some decent humans in this town." She picked up the edge of his cloak, rubbing it between her fingers. "All the snow and cold, and you only have this thin cloak and a hat. Aren't you cold?"

  "No, I'm quite warm, actually."

  "Listen." Kali stroked Kale's arm. Her touch sent shivers up his spine. "My, you are warm." She pulled his arm close and hugged it. "Mm. I could enjoy this." Kale shifted in his seat, trying to pull his arm away, but her grip was too tight. "I could use your help with something."

  Kale licked his lips, aware that his mouth felt very dry.

  "I'm just waiting on Deli." Kale cast a furtive glance back at the jewelry shop. "We're going back to the palace straightaway after she's done."

  "That's not a problem. I don't need help until tonight, anyway. Meet me in the undercroft? By the door to the catacombs?" Kali leaned in close to Kale and nuzzled his ear. "I'll make it worth your while." She smiled and pulled away. "After dark
. After dinner. I'll be waiting for you."

  Kale could only nod in reply. He swallowed and watched her walk away.

  "Hey, was that the drak from jail?" His sister's voice made him jump.

  "Um, yeah." Kale tossed a glance his sister's way. He thought she purchased nothing at first, until he saw the coiled, copper bangles on her arms. He glanced back to the entrance, but there was no trace of Kali.

  Delilah pursed her lips and shook her head. "What did she want? And where did you get that hat?"

  "She wants my help with something tonight." He pointed at the haberdasher. "The hat shop is over there. She got it for me."

  "Oh." Delilah cocked her head and regarded her brother for a moment. "It looks good. Let's go get a drink."

  Chapter 12

  Pancras awoke with a start to the sound of pounding on the suite doors. The fire in the hearth burned low, and as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he threw another log on it. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, but he knew from the pink glow on the horizon the hour was late.

  He shuffled over to the door. "Kale? Delilah. Are you two back yet?" He heard no response and opened the door.

  Lady Milena greeted him. "Trouble with your draks?"

  "No, I thought perhaps they returned while I was dozing. What can I do for you?" He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

  With a shake of her head, she declined. "His Highness demands a progress report. Please accompany me."

  "Very well."

  Pancras kept his pace slow while he considered what to tell Prince Gavril. The snow outside muffled everything, but the quiet served to amplify the clicking of Lady Milena's armor as they crossed the stone floors. The snow prevented him from having accomplished as much research as he intended. In truth, Pancras had yet to accomplish anything to further Prince Gavril's plan, but he feared admitting that was not a good idea.

  "Are the headaches still bothering you?"

  "No, not really." Pancras preceded her down the spiral stairs. He waited for her at the bottom. "I have a theory about them, but I need some more time before I am certain." Pancras suspected the dark dreams were the cause. They seemed to be more than nightmares, but they had not recurred since his last headache. It was one theory he was curious about; yet, at the same time hoped he would not have an opportunity to test further.

  "Prince Gavril is in a foul mood. Be short and direct. I can't imagine you have much to tell him since you haven't had an opportunity to do any research outside of the palace yet, but he was insistent." Lady Milena returned the salutes of passing guards as they entered the main hall. She led Pancras to the antechamber where Prince Gavril awaited.

  The prince looked haggard. His hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in stubble. Dark circles under his eyes, and loose, wrinkled clothing completed the look. He glanced up and sighed when Pancras and Lady Milena entered the room.

  "Ah, it's about time. Leave us, Captain. I wish to speak to the necromancer alone."

  Pancras winced. Although he had admitted to Milena he was a once necromancer, he planned to avoid mentioning it considering her hostile reaction to him in the catacombs. Lady Milena's face was a stone mask, however. She saluted her sovereign and turned on her heels. Once she closed the door behind her, Gavril spun on the minotaur.

  "Tell me you have a solution."

  Pancras chewed his lip and then shook his head. "I do not."

  "Why not? You've had days."

  "I've had days trapped inside the palace while a snowstorm raged. Your libraries are full of poetry and historical texts." Pancras clasped his hands behind his back and paced. The motion reduced his rising urge to throttle the human. "The ritual you've requested of me cannot be found in those sorts of books. If you recall, today was the first day anyone could even leave the palace, and I spent my time tracking down the rest of the equipment I will need."

  "You need?" Prince Gavril raised his eyebrows. "Then you know what must be done? Generally?"

  "As I said when we first spoke, it is not something I have ever done myself, but I have heard of such magic. Since there is no Arcane University here, I must attempt to discover the ritual myself by working backward from various cures for infertility that priests of Cybele, Apellon, and Aurora use. I plan to speak to them as soon as possible."

  "Tomorrow, then?" The prince stood toe-to-toe with Pancras, thrusting his chin up in an attempt to intimidate Pancras. Since the minotaur stood over a head-and-a-half taller than the prince, it made him look like a petulant toddler demanding treats from his father.

  "The humans here in Almeria don't seem overly fond of minotaurs. It may take me some time to ingratiate myself sufficiently to learn such intimate knowledge from them. Then, once I have the knowledge, it might take weeks, or months to discern what I need to create." Pancras spoke slowly, as to a child. "Once I discover the requirements, I must then create, from scratch, that which is needed. I doubt very much I'm going to find any necromancers or witches in town who will sell me the needed components. Otherwise, you would have availed yourself of their services already, I should think."

  Prince Gavril threw up his hands and turned away. "Yes, yes. I have already tried the 'remedies' recommended by those charlatans and none of them did any damn good!" He spun around to face Pancras again. "This had better be worth my time and money."

  "What I provide for you will work." Pancras wrung his hands together. "It may require something from your princess: a hair, a bit of… fluid—"

  Prince Gavril waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yes, yes. I hear you've been spotted conversing with her on her morning walks. I trust you'll handle it. Leave me. I have important business."

  Pancras bowed and left the muttering, pacing prince. Lady Milena awaited him in the main hall. She accosted him. "Well, Necromancer?" She put contemptuous emphasis on the word. "Ready to return to your chambers?"

  Drawing himself up to his full height, Pancras looked down at Lady Milena. She stared up at him with defiant grey eyes. "I can find my own way, if my presence disgusts you that much." He turned and left her standing alone in the great hall.

  She caught up to him by the time he reached the stairs. She grabbed his arm to stop him.

  Pancras snorted and glared at her, narrowing his eyes.

  "Please accept my apologies. You have freely admitted to me your past and have done nothing to earn my ire. Sometimes I forget myself in my zeal."

  "You have a very forceful grip for one filled with remorse."

  Lady Milena let go of his arm. "I am sorry."

  He searched her eyes for the truth. Pancras saw no trace of contempt or malice. There must be bad blood there somewhere. "Very well. I shall want to visit a temple tomorrow. Apellon, Aurora, Cybele. Whichever is closest."

  "Yes, Apellon is closest. There is no temple to Cybele in the city, of course, but there is one just outside the north gate. They prefer to be closer to the farms, you understand."

  They climbed the stairs and returned to Pancras's chambers. Lady Milena looked out over the city as Pancras unlocked the doors. "I'll come for you after the morning meal."

  Pancras bowed to her. "That would be fine. Have a good evening, Lady Milena."

  She took a step toward him, opening her mouth to speak, but then shut it and nodded. "You as well."

  Pancras waited until she left. Then he shut the doors. Kale and Delilah were seated in the armchairs, with their puzzle box and grimoire, respectively. The first thing he noticed was Kale's wide-brimmed hat. Delilah sported a pair of coiled bangles on her arms.

  "It would appear the two of you had a good afternoon."

  "You know"—Delilah shut her book while her brother grinned at Pancras—" I think I'm a little jealous of the hat!"

  * * *

  After dinner, Kale returned to his room and rummaged through his pack for his tools. He secured his bandoleer and ensured all the daggers were in place. When he turned to leave, Delilah blocked the doorway, staff in hand, tapping her foot.


  "And where do you think you're going?"

  "I'm meeting Kali in the undercroft. I'll be back." He tried to move past his sister, but she wouldn't budge. She placed her hand on his chest, covering the rune, and pushed him back.

  "Just what does she need your help with?"

  Kale scratched the back of his neck. "She didn't say."

  "Oh well, then, I am definitely going with you." She stepped aside to let Kale pass.

  "With me? You want to go with me?" Kale looked at his sister in disbelief.

  "I'm not letting you go walking into the claws of that harpy all by yourself."

  Pushing past her, Kale shook his head. He wasn't about to stop her from coming with him. He knew better than that. Pancras was on his way toward the bathing room as they passed through the parlor.

  "Where are the two of you going?"

  Kale pointed toward the door. "Exploring the palace." Delilah scowled at him.

  "I would have thought you explored every nook and cranny by now." Pancras grabbed a bottle of ale from the table.

  "Some crannies are worth exploring more than once." Kale grinned at Pancras but dropped his smile when he saw his sister glaring at him.

  "Be careful. I'm heading into town early tomorrow, so I shan't wait up for you."

  Delilah pushed her brother. "That means we need to be quiet when we come back."

  Pancras nodded. "That will help." He disappeared into the bathing room.

  Kale and Delilah proceeded down the hallway. The snow covering Almeria reflected the light of the King and Queen upward. The glare from the nearly full moons was almost bright enough to cast shadows. Even though he had to stand on tiptoe to see over the wall to observe the thin curls of smoke drifting upward from most of the chimneys in the city, Kale imagined people huddling around their hearths, struggling to keep warm.