by J. S. Morin
There was a hole rent in the dragon's belly that widened as the beast's descent carried it through the blast. There were no guts within, and no illusion of spilled blood drenched the crowd below. The dragon continued on its dive, frayed and unraveling. It pulled up after a blast of fire from its jaws raked across the false hillside.
All over the terrace, important folk pushed and jostled like peasants to move clear of the warlock. Kyrus felt Celia shift to put him between herself and Rashan, and a collective breath was held as the image of Jadefire limped away from Raynesdark and dissipated just outside the city limits of Kadris.
"Part of the show," Rashan said to no one in particular. His mouth twitched as he gave a nervous little laugh.
"Did the illusionists know that?" Kyrus asked. He had not made any move to remove himself from the warlock's vicinity. Though the result had been violent, the disruption in the aether seemed little cause for alarm.
"Consider it a perk of having a warlock about for Founding Day," Rashan said through gritted teeth. As he turned his back from the pageant to leave the terrace, spectators scrambled to get out of his way. Kyrus moved to follow but Celia held him back and he did not struggle to free himself.
"Let him be," she said. Kyrus looked down into her eyes. Is that real concern? "Stay and watch to the end at least."
"I should go see what that was all about." Kyrus extracted himself from Celia's grasp. "You stay and watch. Tell me how it ends," He said, smiling at his own joke.
"Same as it does every year ..." Celia glared after him.
* * * * * * * *
"Where do you think you are going?" Kyrus shouted as he spotted Rashan heading for the central courtyard. He had landed his airship there, the Looming Blade, upon his return from Safschan. "Your crew is off watching the pageant somewhere."
"I plan to be ready to depart as soon as they return. In fact Brannis, go have someone round them up." Rashan spoke over his shoulder, slowing but not stopping. Kyrus gained ground on him.
"No. Go order someone yourself. I oversee the emperor's affairs, not yours. Now stop a moment and tell me what that little tantrum was about."
Rashan stopped and turned halfway, not quite facing Kyrus but at least giving him full attention.
"Faolen did quite a nice job."
"Faolen?"
"Nihaxtukali," Rashan said, fluently pronouncing Jadefire's draconic name. "No one else working on the pageant could have known what she looked like. Aside from being thrice the size—monster though she was—the likeness was perfect. You saw her as well, or at least the real Brannis did."
"I suppose I had much the same view when she dove at Brannis. But you know as well as anyone that none of this was real. There must be some other reason."
"Reason? Brannis, I kill things. That is what I do. Some instinct in me thought better of taking a chance and I reacted. If you want to know the difference between me and all those warlocks who died too young, there you have it. I kill. I have many regrets, but I have lived to regret them. I have killed to regret them."
"And you became a demon," Kyrus added.
"I was the oldest warlock in Kadrin history before that. This is my retirement," Rashan said with a rueful smile.
"You spend too much time out there, hunting Megrenn's allies. Maybe you should consider offering them terms of surrender."
"Fools fail to learn from their mistakes. I spared them once, and—"
"And they rebelled a hundred winters later."
"And I will not have it happen again," Rashan said. "Only in story books does sparing the life of an enemy come back to reward you."
The warlock turned to leave, and this time, Kyrus chose not to follow.
* * * * * * * *
The Black Gull drifted over the water of Kadris Harbor, her crew dallying to watch the end of the Founding Day pageant. Though Captain Aroush had given Tanner no trouble about Sir Brannis's orders, he had dragged out the preparations for departure much longer than expected. Tanner had wanted to be well away from the city before the pageant’s end. It had acted as an admirable cover for their crossing of the city. In plain view of everyone, no one had noticed a man and his 'son' on the unlit streets of Kadris.
"You enjoying the show?" Tanner asked. The young boy had his face through the wide rope mesh that protected the sailors from falling overboard. Tanner hung on by one of the ropes.
"Yes."
"Just watch, the best part is coming."
They watched as the dragon over Raynesdark was struck by lightning, though from so far away Tanner had no idea whose magic had done it. He had seen enough Founding Day pageants in his youth to know that the lightning was an unusual addition to the show.
As the illusions of the Battle of Raynesdark cleared, the city darkened. The moon and stars were blotted out as if a sudden storm had covered them with clouds. With all the lights dimmed to better view the illusions, Kadris was as black as the bottom of a well. A hush fell over the city.
In the sky, a single figure appeared. It was enormous, dwarfing even the great dragon. He was muscular, with a white beard and a bare chest. As his arms swept out wide, the pall of darkness gradually lifted, light spreading out from him like a ripple on still water.
A great voice boomed across the city.
"I PROCLAIM THIS LAND KADRIN. I CLAIM IT FOR MY CHILDREN AND THEIR DESCENDANTS FOR ALL TIME. PROSPER AND SPREAD YOUR GREATNESS ACROSS ALL LANDS."
"Tallax!"Anzik exclaimed. It was the first time Tanner had seen the boy show any excitement.
"No, that's not Tallax. That's supposed to be Drendath Kadrin, founder of the empire." Tanner said, correcting the boy's misplaced assumption.
"It is! That's Tallax," Anzik insisted.
"I'm telling you ..." Tanner stopped himself, realizing the argument was pointless. Anzik Fehr would believe as he chose.
As the apparition of Drendath Kadrin faded to the sound of thunderous cheering, Tanner looked out to sea. They had no course, just a plan to get away from the city. Tanner was supposed to update their orders once they were well clear. He would need a night's sleep, and information from Denrik Zayne, before he could do that.
Tanner went to find his bunk. He had a pirate to bargain with.
Chapter 5 - New Old Friends
"It was nice to see a bit of countryside from the back of a horse," Soria said as she handed her reins to the stableboy. "We should do it more often. Scar Harbor's getting so dreary now that the weather's turning."
"Well, Golis will be little different. More people maybe, but just as cold," Brannis said. He flipped the boy a hundred eckle coin to cover the care of both their mounts while they were in the city. "Once we finish up our business in Acardia, we can sail someplace nice and warm. Maybe that trip to see Khesh?"
Soria glared at him sidelong as she took his arm. She leaned close as they walked away from the stable.
"Erund, you're supposed to know all about Khesh, remember?"
"Fine, but no one here is going to care. Plus, I would not put it past Davin to realize who I really am."
Soria grinned at that. "So who are you, really?"
Brannis glared back but could not argue. He had been caught thinking of himself and Kyrus interchangeably, just as Soria had predicted he would. There was no way Davin could know he was Brannis Solaran.
"I was in a bit of a rush last time I was here. Do you think we could go a bit out of our way? There's someplace I want to see," Soria asked.
"Sure, where are we heading?"
"Temple Square."
While not technically on the way, it was also not far from it. Centuries prior, the old square was the heart of Golis. The paving stones they walked across were the only part that was maintained by the Acardian government. The statuary was all original, hundreds of years old—their precise age lost to the poor recordkeeping of an earlier era. Brannis could little help but gawk up at them.
"Moloun, Ptaw, Eziel, Jharoun," Soria began counting them off, pointing to each two-story s
tatue in turn. "Hanrah, Melethaw, I think the ruined one should have been Anpah; he would have been a fat one in a ram-headed helm; Tolosha, Mtar, Renru, Dhakoun. And of course, Tansha, Goddess of Mercy." Each of the statues stood alone atop a marble block the size of a wagon, with steps leading up on all sides. Brannis followed Soria up to the statue of Tansha.
"Was she ... I mean was that—"
"Yes. My parents were worshipers of Tansha," Soria said, reaching up to caress the statue's foot. She stared up into the goddess's face, which appeared to stare back. Each of the gods was posed to suggest some aspect of their dominion. Tansha was a patron of the meek, thus she gazed down upon them.
"I never thought much about the old Garnevian gods. Hard to imagine folk still believe in them."
Soria's head whipped around, brow furrowed. Brannis was shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor. He stumbled back a step, nearly losing his balance on the stairs.
"I suppose I should expect that, even from you," she said. Soria took a breath and relaxed her features.
"You ... believe in them?" Brannis asked.
She nodded. "As far back as I can remember."
"But you know how magic works. How can you still ascribe that to divine powers?"
"I don't know how magic works," Soria replied. "Neither do you. We know it works, we can use it, but I'll be gutted if I know how."
"So ... Tansha?"
"No, it's not that simple. It's just that there is more to magic than a draw and some thoughts. I don't need to know how it works, just trust that it does."
"What makes you so certain? If I knew magic as a boy as Kyrus knows it now, I certainly would not seek any further power beyond it."
Soria looked about. The square was nearly empty, but she came halfway down the steps to stand right next to Brannis.
"Two things I've asked her for—two things that would never have come to me otherwise. I asked for plenty of greedier and more selfish things too, but these two convinced me."
"What things?"
"First, I asked her for a playmate. Someone who didn't care that I was different, someone to make me feel safe. I was a little foreign girl being raised among Kheshi. She gave me Juliana."
"Yes, but that—"
"No 'buts,' you don't know how we became twinborn any better than I do. The other thing I asked her for was you." She reached up to kiss Brannis and he put his arms around her, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't know how she does it ... doesn't matter."
Soria pushed herself gently away from Brannis. He looked down and matched the smile he saw. A sharp blow to his shoulder startled him from his reverie.
"Ow. What was that for?" Brannis asked. He rubbed at the spot she had struck, wishing that he had thought better of traveling without armor.
"For making me wait five years longer than I should have. Kyrus should have switched places with you when you were boys."
"You think I liked growing up a misfit? Being the only one at the Academy without a sniff of a draw? I would have traded places with Kyrus in an instant."
"Well, as long as we agree that you spent at least five years keeping my prayers from being answered, then I'm satisfied." Soria hooked her arm through Brannis's and began to tow him out of Temple Square.
"There is something you need to explain to me," Brannis said as he allowed himself to be pulled along. "If you worship the goddess of mercy, how can you work as a coinblade?"
"It was a picture book, Brannis. I knew Tansha's name, and to pray to her. I learned to pronounce the names under the gods' pictures, but I couldn't read Acardian. It's not like I was brought up a pacifist. When a goddess answers your prayers, who cares what it says in her book?"
* * * * * * * *
Acardia's royal palace was hardly worth the appellation. It stood three stories, all meticulously whitewashed stone, with glass windows and a red-clay tiled roof. It had a small courtyard in front that was brown and leafless, save for a few evergreen shrubs. The palace and all of the grounds would have just about fit within the center courtyard of the imperial palace in Kadris.
Brannis and Soria arrived at the gates to find them flanked by a pair of guardsmen arrayed in blue and white. Neither was armed beyond the truncheon hanging at his side.
"Halt. State your business."
"Hello, I am an old acquaintance of his majesty's scribe, Expert Davin," Brannis said.
"No blades within the palace, I'm afraid, sir," the guard said, pointing at Avalanche sheathed on Brannis's hip. Drat. I cannot let them handle Avalanche. Too dangerous if they get curious and draw it.
"Quite all right, I assure you. I was just hoping to give him a message and to see if he has time to meet with me." Brannis handed the man a small wooden tube that was capped in copper at either end. Contingencies, contingencies ... Your paranoia is rubbing off on me, Rashan. But thank you, this once.
The guard looked the tube over. "I'll have to open it." Brannis nodded his assent. A moment's inspection satisfied the man, and he sealed up the tube once more. "What name shall I give Expert Davin?"
"I am Erund Hinterdale. This is my wife, Soria." Brannis smiled, hoping that he had not stumbled over the introduction.
"Very well sir. Are you staying nearby?"
"We have a room at The Golden Elk."
The guard perked up at the news. The Golden Elk was not a place for the light of purse.
* * * * * * * *
"Well, that just fills out our day now, doesn't it?" Soria said. She took off her long coat and hung it on a peg near the door of their rented room. "Your friend Davin works for the king, which means his hours are whatever King Gorden decides they are. He could send for us any moment, or be busy until midnight."
"King Gorden is an old man. How late can he be about?"
"Yes, but it's not even noontime yet. We're just stuck here waiting for word." Soria crossed her arms in front of her, lean muscle and calloused hands against delicate pale blue silk.
Brannis glanced about the room, looking left, then right, then twisting about to look behind him. He gave the ceiling and floor each a quick examination as well, before turning his attention back to Soria. He looked her top to bottom and back again.
"I have no idea how we can busy ourselves all that time," Brannis said with a widening grin.
* * * * * * * *
The horse's trotting gait upon the cobblestones was enough advanced warning for Brannis and Soria to make themselves presentable. A half-empty bowl of fruit sat upon the bedside table next to another bowl bearing apple cores and grape stems—all either of them had eaten as they waited.
"Royal seal on the carriage," Brannis said as he peered out the window. The royal hawk was painted in gold, holding the broken ends of a sword in its claws. "Either it came for us, or the clientele here is better connected than I had realized."
"Saves us the trouble of worrying about dinner. No nobleman would be crass enough to summon us at dinner hour and not provide a meal."
"Davin is no nobleman. He is the king's scribe. I assume he just asked the favor of a carriage. He has no money for one himself."
"Being the king's scribe must pay well," Soria said.
"For a scribe perhaps," Brannis replied. He was just about to buckle on his sword belt when he thought better of it. He wrapped the belt around the sheath and handed the bundle to Soria.
"What do I want with that thing? I feel safer fighting without a weapon that I could cut myself in half with."
"Ward it up in one of the dresser drawers," Brannis told her. "If we end up at the palace, I would rather it be safely here than held by the king's guards."
Soria's own blades were already stored in one of the drawers beneath a stack of finery. She tried several times to fit Avalanche inside as well but abandoned the effort with a sigh.
"It won't fit. I can't ward it in," she said. Brannis was about to say something but she raised her hand. "And no, I can't make the sword
smaller or the drawer bigger. Go ask Caladris if you want that sort of magic."
"You mean Lord Harwick."
"I meant Caladris," Soria replied, sticking her tongue out at Brannis as punctuation.
Brannis looked about the room. Finding no other suitable place to stash the sword, he unsheathed it. Holding the blade carefully by the hilt and near the tip, he hopped, blade held overhead. He let it go just above one of the dark-stained rafters, buckled and looped the sword belt around the blade, and balanced the sheath as best he could upon the rafter.
"Best I can think of on short notice," Brannis said.
"Yeah ... come on, military genius. We've gotta go."
Brannis thought better of protesting as she took the lead down the stairs to meet the carriage. The narrow stairwell forced them single file. This is my errand ... my friend. Why does she seem to always lead the way?
A footman greeted them and informed them that Expert Davin would indeed be receiving them at the palace. Soria shook loose of his attempt to help her into the carriage, and Brannis climbed in behind her with a nod of apology for her unladylike behavior.
As the carriage rumbled off into the streets of Golis, Brannis looked out the window. They were not going back the way that he and Soria had come. Brannis had thought it to be the quickest way from the palace.
"Excuse me, but is this a better way to reach the palace?" Brannis called out to the driver.
"Expert Davin requested I give you a bit of a show about the city, if you please," the driver informed them. "Lots of history he said you'd appreciate, and I know my way around well as any."
Brannis beamed at Soria.
"Of course," she answered, rolling her eyes. She leaned in close to Brannis. "This is the man who was like a father to you?" she asked in a whisper. Brannis nodded, still smiling. "I’m beginning to see where you got your tastes."
* * * * * * * *
Soria was fidgeting by the time the carriage pulled through the palace gates. Brannis knew that the tour of Golis was of little interest to her. Having seen the mighty cities of Khesh and Takalia and living in the vastness of Kadris, Soria must have found local trivia frightfully boring. She had perked up when their driver had taken them back through Temple Square, and had known more about the old gods than just their names and likenesses. After that she had become disinterested.