“On the charges of treason and espionage.” The man spat on the ground. “We have known for some time that the Belvaisian crown has been working to destroy our empire from within, sending weapons and supplies to arm our own slaves against us. And now it seems the Anglican queen has become our enemy as well.”
“I am no agent of the queen!” Starling said. “I’m here on a scientific excursion, and I demand you stand out of my way.”
The guard captain, or whatever rank he held, ignored the baron and jutted his chin toward Querry. “Who is this man?”
Querry chuckled. “I was just trying to rob him.” He decided it was safer to be considered a thief than a spy at the moment.
“I find that unlikely. Two Anglicans? Take them into custody.”
“I will warn you one last time to stand down,” Starling said in a low, serious voice.
Predictably, the guards only chuckled as they started to close in. The men on foot edged around the legs of the horses, moving so close Querry could smell their rancid sweat. He noted with horror and disgust that some of them were almost as dark as the men, women, and children back at the quilombo. If they hunted their own people for profit, what would they do to him and the baron?
“We need to level the field, and soon,” Querry said quietly to Starling.
Starling nodded once without looking at Querry and raised his hands, holding his arms out straight and stiff in front of his chest. A flash of white light erupted from his palms. Querry’s night-vision goggles intensified the brilliance a hundred fold, scorching his eyes and tearing a ragged curse from his throat. He couldn’t see a thing as he sailed backward through the air, knocked off his feet by the blast. He landed hard among thick leaves and fallen branches, the impact stealing his breath. As he struggled to draw in air, he pushed the goggles into his hair and blinked hard. The burning white had receded, leaving only inky darkness in its place, and not the darkness of the night. No stars shined above Querry, and no moonlight broke through the leaves to create variations in the shadows. Everything was an unbroken sheet of black.
Panic welled in Querry’s chest as he groped desperately around to get some sense of his surroundings. All around him, horses screamed and beat the ground with their hooves. Men shouted, steel clanged, and shots rang out. He smelled sulfurous smoke over the rich scent of the forest floor. Querry rolled to his belly and pushed himself up on his hands and knees, continuing to feel around in the leaf litter. Finally his gloved hand connected with something warm, hard, and solid. He clutched his pistol as he felt out his path with his other hand. When he found the trunk of a tree, he used it to pull himself to his feet. He tried to make out Starling’s voice amidst the cacophony and chaos all around him, but he couldn’t locate the baron. Completely disoriented, he had no idea of his position or whether he faced toward or away from the fighting. He took a few tentative steps, his empty hand stretched out in front of him.
Someone grabbed Querry’s lapels and pulled him forward, almost making him trip over something on the ground.
“Starling?” he choked.
An angry voice responded in a language Querry couldn’t understand. Letting his instincts take over, he swung out with his pistol and connected with flesh. His attacker grunted and swore. Querry stumbled back a few steps, aimed in the direction of the sound, and fired. The thump he heard a few seconds later told him he’d hit his target, but he had no way of knowing how many more men waited in the darkness. He could be surrounded. He swung his arms wildly, his gun clutched tight in his fist.
“Drop your weapon!” a man yelled somewhere off to Querry’s left.
Querry pointed his pistol in the direction of the voice and fired, but this time he missed. Footsteps swished through the leaves, and then someone hit Querry hard in the lower back, sending him to his knees. Querry threw his elbow back behind his head and succeeded in hitting his assailant in the groin. He hurried to his feet and backed away, his gun trained on his best estimate of the man’s position. He hoped they didn’t know he couldn’t see, so he yelled, “Drop your weapons!”
A cruel laugh answered him, and he took a few more steps back until he collided with a large tree. At least no one could flank him. He moved his gun slowly in a semi-circle in front of him as he listened hard for anything that might alert him to his enemy’s movement. At the telltale sound of a sword unsheathed, he dodged to the side, but not in time. A heavy blade connected with his ribs, but his leather waistcoat and the metal plates lining it took the worst of the blow. Querry squeezed off another shot but missed again. The sound of boots against the moist ground surrounded him as at least three or four men ran toward him.
“Keep him alive for questioning,” one of them commanded.
Querry flailed his arms. “Just keep back,” he said. “I’m warning you.”
“You are hardly in any position to threaten us,” another man said. He punched Querry in the diaphragm, making him double over, and pulled Querry’s pistol from his hand. Two other men grabbed his arms, straining his shoulder sockets painfully.
Querry thrashed and swore as they dragged him away, but it was no use. He felt the warm, oily ring of a gun barrel pressed against his temple, and he let himself be guided. Soon he smelled horses and felt the terrain even out beneath his boots. His captors pulled his arms out in front of him and bound his wrists with coarse rope that would have likely torn his skin apart if not for his gloves. They patted him down and removed his lock picks, grapple, and dagger. At least they didn’t find the spare set of picks he kept concealed in the hollow heel of his boot.
A sharp tug almost pulled Querry off his feet. He regained his balance and hurried to catch up with the horse or whatever they’d tethered him to. It was the most awkward and uncomfortable situation he’d ever found himself in, trudging through absolute oblivion without even the use of his arms for balance. Somehow, he managed to adapt to it after a while, and he barely stumbled as they dragged him along.
The men conversed in their language, sounding very pleased with themselves. Querry could tell there were fewer of them now, as well as fewer horses. Starling’s spell had likely scared some of the animals off. Somehow, Querry knew the baron had survived as well. He couldn’t say how, but he still felt the magical contract binding him to Starling. It hadn’t dissolved, and for the first time, Querry took that as a good sign.
Querry estimated close to two hours passed before they finally stopped. His calves and feet hurt by then, and his arms were so sore from being wrenched out in front of him that they trembled. His fingers had gone numb because of the rope, but at least his vision had started to return. He managed to make out blobs of grays and patches of light. The soft swishing on either side of him told him they walked across a field of some kind. The sound of all the animals and birds of the forest disappeared. Off in the distance, he smelled cooking fires and the savory scent of roasting meat.
They led him past a huge expanse of creamy white, and Querry realized it must be the manor house and that they’d come to the plantation. They continued around behind it and stopped at a stable long enough to hand their horses off to some slaves. Though his world still looked blurry, Querry thought he saw one of the guards untie his rope from the saddle before dismounting. He finally caught sight of Starling, tethered in a similar fashion to himself. Most of the soldiers remained in the barn, but one led both Querry and Starling by their ropes while two others kept rifles trained on them.
After walking down a small hill and across a footbridge over a narrow stream, Querry saw a low, square, stone building surrounded by a metal fence. It had a single, metal door and no windows. Querry had escaped from enough prisons to recognize one when he saw it. What he didn’t understand was why a plantation needed a prison at all. Still, it hardly mattered. With the picks hidden in his boot, he didn’t plan on staying long.
Inside, it reeked of rust, mold, human sweat, excrement, and blood. Querry gagged as the guards dragged him and Starling down the narrow corridor with ca
ges on either side. Querry heard and smelled people inside them, but with his vision still impaired, he couldn’t make them out. A guard opened a cell door and shoved Querry and Starling inside.
“No chances,” said one of the men, pointing at his prisoners with his rifle. “Take their gear.”
Before they untied him, two of the guards removed Querry’s goggles, his gloves, waistcoat, and even his boots. They shoved him into the filthy straw covering the concrete floor.
“What about the other one, sir? A wizard like this doesn’t need weapons or equipment to make trouble for us.”
“Give me your rifle.”
Querry scrambled to his feet and hurried to stand between the guard leader and the baron. Why would they keep Starling alive so long just to kill him now? “What do you think you’re doing? This man is an Anglican noble. A baron! You can’t just shoot him in the head.”
“You are no longer in Anglica, you little cutpurse. Out of the way.”
“No. I won’t let you do this.”
The leader said a few words in their language to one of his men, who nodded, grabbed Querry by the hair, and slammed Querry’s chest against the stone wall of the cell. The other guard held his gun to Querry’s head.
With his eyes screwed shut and his legs turning to porridge, Querry waited for the gun to discharge. Instead, he heard a sickly crack and a thud. When the guards released him, he turned and found Starling sprawled on his back, a nasty bump on his forehead and his eyes rolled back in his head. The men hadn’t bothered to remove any of the baron’s clothes or equipment.
“If he can’t think or concentrate, he can’t cast,” the leader said. “We’ll figure out another way to subdue him for interrogation.” With that, the three of them left the cell and locked the door behind them.
It was as hot as a brick oven in the cell and lit only by a few smoking torches at irregular intervals along the walls. His vision hadn’t quite recovered, which made it difficult for Querry to assess Starling’s condition when he crouched down beside him. Clearly he’d been knocked unconscious, but his breathing sounded regular. Querry gingerly touched the big goose egg above Starling’s eyebrow. It felt hot and throbbing. Querry wished he had a bit of ice or even a cool rag to press against it. Since he didn’t, he lifted Starling’s head into his lap.
Half an hour or so later, the baron groaned and started to come around. Starling winced as he touched his forehead. “That,” he muttered, “is bloody sore. Ah, damn it. Would you help me sit up, Querry?”
Querry grasped the baron by the armpits and helped him lean against the wall. Starling’s eyes fluttered, and he dropped his chin against his chest. A moment later, he jerked his head back up.
“Perhaps you should lie back down,” Querry suggested. “Try to get a bit of sleep.”
Starling laughed. “That’s exactly what I mustn’t do with a head injury like this. On the contrary, I have to keep myself awake somehow. Please, Querry. Don’t let me fall asleep. If I do, I may not wake up.”
“Is it true what they said?” Querry asked. “That you can’t cast any spells?”
“Casting spells requires a great deal of concentration. Right now, it’s taking all of mine to string words into coherent sentences.”
Querry swore. “I was hoping you’d be able to get us out of here.”
“Isn’t that more your specialty than mine?”
“Usually,” Querry conceded, “but these backwater guards weren’t as clueless as I’d assumed. They took my boots, where I hide my emergency picks. If they hadn’t, we’d be out of here already. I still might manage, but it’ll take longer.”
“Well, in that case….” Starling reached inside his waistcoat, pulled out an engraved silver flask, opened the lid, and took a swig. Then he handed it to Querry. “Gin.”
Querry sighed with delight and drank. He held it in his mouth a few seconds before swallowing slowly, feeling the gin move in a warm little trail to his stomach. “You know, there are plenty of things I don’t miss about Halcyon, but I have missed this. How do you get it in Thalacea?”
“Tom gets it for me. Unlike you and me, he can’t be prevented from going back whenever he likes. Or whenever I like.”
“Two titles are a lot to give up just to practice magic,” Querry said. “Couldn’t you have just kept it secret?”
Starling laughed. “A lot more than my use of magic got me exiled from Anglica, Querry.”
“Oh?” Querry took another swig of gin.
“I reached a point in my life where I simply didn’t care anymore,” Starling said. His eyes went unfocused as he lost himself to something inside his head. He drank more gin and began to hum to himself.
To focus the baron’s attention and keep him awake and talking, Querry asked, “What exactly did you do?”
“You know, I lost everything I cared about. Everything seemed so meaningless. I saw little to life beyond the pursuit of pleasure. So I pursued pleasure. With anyone who asked me for it. Married women. Visiting princesses. Artists, circus performers, scientists, and gypsies. I kept it no secret, because I didn’t care. I didn’t think anything could hurt me anymore. I think the queen’s nephew was the last straw, though. And behind a bush during a royal garden party, at that.”
Querry was a little shocked but mostly impressed. “I have to say, well done.”
“I thought you might feel that way. After all, you seem to keep both your partners quite happy.”
“I suppose I do,” Querry said. “Damn. I miss them, you know. After only a few hours even. They’re both very capable, but I worry when I’m not there to look after them.”
“I hope you never lose them.”
“Why would you say that?” Querry asked. “Did you lose someone?”
“It was a long time ago.” Starling fished in his trouser pocket and pulled out a locket. He teared up a little as he looked at the photo inside.
“Your wife?”
“No. I have never been married.”
Querry was torn. He had to keep Starling awake, but he didn’t know how much to push him. He felt sure Starling had already told him more than he would if he hadn’t been injured.
“I’ve had hundreds of lovers, Querry. Maybe a thousand. I’ve lost track of them over the years. But I’ve only ever been in love one time. I was sixteen years old. My father had just died, leaving me his titles. He also left me with a sort of freedom I’d never known before. He’d been the proper one, and he’d ruled the family like a tyrant. My mother was Belvaisian, a free spirit and a romantic. I’m much more like her, I think. Anyway, she almost encouraged me take lovers. Not long after, I met a farm boy named David and fell in love with him to the depths of my soul. I would have given up my estate and moved into his hovel if he’d asked me. I believe that’s something you can understand.”
Querry nodded. “What happened?”
“They found coal, bauxite ore, and copper deposits near his family’s land and opened up mines and processing factories. Before long, the poison they spewed polluted the fine, old spring David’s family used to water their crops. David got sick. I spent a fortune on doctors and even tried to use magic, but he wasted away. His hair and teeth fell out, and he couldn’t keep food down. Sores covered his body, and he could hardly breathe. When David died at twenty, he looked like a ninety-year-old man. For a long time after I lost him, I didn’t care about anything. I was finished with this world and didn’t even care if I lived or died. I saw no hope for humanity, no remedy for our cruelty and avarice. Then I found the first mention of the magical energy source in an old book. ‘The primal source, the beginning’, it claimed. Make no mistake, Querry. I’m weary of this life. I don’t expect to find happiness in it. But if I can leave humanity with a clean source of power, I will be honored to die attempting it. Can you understand a little?”
“A little,” Querry conceded. “But if you despise people so much, why sacrifice yourself to help them?”
“Because no one deserves to die like
my David did. Why can’t anyone see? We, as a race, must embrace magic, not filthy industry! How can the world be so blind? Exiling sorcerers while the very air they breathe grows toxic? How does that make sense? I hate those disgusting machines, and I’ll destroy them all if I can.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Querry said, thinking of Frolic. “I think some sort of balance can be reached. Don’t you?”
“No. If I find this wellspring, people will have all the energy they need. There will be no use for machines.”
“Maybe, but can you imagine how much people will fight to control it? It might be more of a curse than a blessing.”
“I can’t hope to change human nature, Querry.”
“You make it sound as though there isn’t any chance of a better future.”
“Not as long as people are willing to sacrifice each other for wealth and power. Not when material possessions are more important to them than human lives. Do you honestly think a time will come when they don’t?”
“No,” Querry whispered. He’d fought exploitation all his life. “I don’t suppose that’s ever likely to happen.”
“Consider your own experience,” the baron stated as if he spoke to Querry’s thoughts. “Children utilized as nothing more than cogs in the machines of greed. That’s industrialization, and that’s what we have to look forward to.”
They sat in demoralized silence for many minutes, both of them keeping their thoughts to themselves. Querry felt himself sinking into despair. Was there truly no hope for the world, and if not, why should he keep fighting? Then he remembered his lovers, his beautiful Reg and Frolic, and the thought renewed his determination. He would fight for them until he could no longer lift a finger.
“Right. Time to get out of this stinking pit, then. How’s your head, majesty?”
“You little shit,” Starling said with teasing affection. “Would it absolutely kill you to call me sir?”
“Only ever called one person that in my life,” Querry said, standing to inspect the lock on their cell.
A Grimoire for the Baron Page 22