Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  Brannis had thought to take her to the museum before they left Golis, but when they had passed by it, she slouched in her seat and did not so much as look at it. Saved me a half day of boring her, I suppose.

  Once they arrived at the palace, the footman left them in a small sitting room with tea. The furnishings were sturdy and of fine quality, but not ornate—the tea set was pewter, the rug a simple pattern of local styling, the pictures on the walls looked like they were painted by an enthusiastic amateur—all portraits seemingly of the same old man.

  Brannis poured himself a cup of the tea, finding it similar in flavor to the Krangan brew that Kyrus was fond of. Soria declined. She sat stiffly on the edge of her high-backed chair with hands folded in her lap.

  "You look puzzled," Brannis said.

  "It's ... not what I expected." She looked down at her own dress, recently purchased from a Takalish tailor. "I feel overdressed." She switched to a whisper. "And I feel naked with neither of us armed."

  "Acardia is unlike other places. King Gorden is loved because he rules Acardia well, not because he displays the kingdom's wealth in his palace."

  "I could not have put it better."

  Brannis and Soria both turned—neither had heard anyone approach. King Gorden stood in the doorway wearing a starched blue housecoat bearing the royal crest. He was a shriveled man, gaunt of face and limb—the look one gets when extreme age hollows the fat and muscle behind a once-vigorous frame. His age had robbed him of neither his posture nor his hair, which was pulled back and gathered in a white horsetail at his neck. He gave Brannis an appraising look.

  "Remarkable likeness," King Gorden pronounced. "I should say that artist friend of yours had quite the eye." The king addressed himself over his shoulder. Brannis tried to follow his look out into the hall.

  "Indeed, Your Majesty," a familiar voice agreed. Brannis's face lit up. "If I might introduce Expert Kyrus Hinterdale, my former apprentice." Davin Chartler stepped in behind King Gorden, beaming to match Brannis's smile.

  "Your Majesty, I ... well ..."

  "It is quite all right, Expert Kyrus. Lord Harwick is a dear friend of mine and has explained everything. The use of an alias is—regrettably—prudent, but quite unnecessary here," the king said. He stepped aside to allow Davin to pass. The portly older scribe ambled into the room and crushed Brannis in a hug.

  "My boy, my boy, I worried so! That nasty business about witchcraft, rumors of pirates ..."

  "Davin, I can only imagine what you must have thought of me."

  "That you had been caught up in some unfortunate nonsense? That I fretted daily on your behalf? That I told anyone who brought it up it was some dreadful misunderstanding? That about covers the gamut."

  "Davin, this is Soria. She is my ..."

  "Betrothed," Soria said, filling in the word for Brannis. "We've been telling folks we're already married."

  "Charmed, my dear. I had once despaired of Kyrus ever finding a good woman. It seems he just needed to be chased off for a few months," Davin said with a wink.

  King Gorden reached into a pocket in his housecoat, retrieving a pocket-clock on a gold chain. He flipped the cover with a practiced ease and glanced within.

  "It would appear that our dinner should be arriving at table presently. Mrs. Averstrom is a punctual woman, and she does not take kindly to her stews cooling uneaten. Let us adjourn this reunion to the dining room."

  The short walk to dinner took them through more of the pleasant—but modestly furnished—home of Acardia's monarch. Brannis had spent so much time in the halls of the imperial palace in Kadris that he had a difficult time even thinking of the building as a palace at all.

  They sat down just as a plump, grey-haired woman was setting out bowls of steaming stew from a tray. The king made no ceremony of the meal, and his spoon took to the broth within moments of sitting down. As Mrs. Averstrom poured the wine, the others followed suit. The stew was simple but well-seasoned, tasting strongly of carrot and potato with bits of minced pork; the wine was a local vintage from just outside Golis.

  "So Kyrus, you must tell us all about your adventures since you left Acardia," Davin said. "I imagine there are tales to tell. You look hale and stronger than I have ever seen you—and you brought back your future bride! Do enlighten us."

  Brannis shifted in his seat. Lying to his old friend felt underhanded, but the truth needed a bit of bending before it could be fit into Kyrus's role.

  "Well, much of what you have heard is probably true, with the exception of extreme embellishment. I was tried for witchcraft, though I assure you I am no witch," Brannis said, managing a smile.

  "Grammatically speaking, you couldn't possibly be," Davin agreed. "Witch is the feminine term."

  "I was also kidnapped by pirates who believed the rumors that I was. They thought to convince me to use my dark powers for their own ends, and assumed I would do so out of gratitude for being saved. Of course, I had neither the disposition nor the occult powers they sought."

  "It must have been ghastly," Davin said.

  "Well, aside from being surrounded by the a class of men better suited to populating dungeons than running about free, I cannot complain too loudly. Superstition put a bit of fear in them about what I might do, so I was unharassed. I got to see Marker's Point—"

  "Which is where we met," Soria interrupted, smiling at him. He knew her well enough to recognize her signal. She wanted to divert his narrative. Good. I was unsure how to work you into the story anyway. "He looked so out of place there. It was comical. Kheshi and Feru are most commonly spoken there, and Kyrus did not know where to find fellow Acardians."

  "I found the prettiest translator you could imagine," Brannis said, picking up the thread where her story seemed to be leading.

  "I got rid of her though, and took the job myself," Soria said, drawing chuckles from even King Gorden. It faded in and out of his notice, so accustomed he was growing to her accent, but she was not trying to hide her Kheshi drawl.

  "So you parted ways in Marker's Point, then?" the king asked.

  "No, Your Majesty. The pirates still had thoughts of making use of me, and took me with them when they set sail. I was not yet of a mind to cross them, either by hiding or defying them, but that meant I had no time to say goodbye to Soria."'

  "I searched for him and finally realized that he must have been taken by Captain Zayne once more," Soria said. How do I believe a thing this girl says? She has me believing her, and I know what truly happened. "So I waited for Zayne's ship to return, since Marker's Point is a friendly port for pirates. I figured it had to return—and return it did—but no sign of Kyrus."

  "Gracious, Kyrus, where had you gotten off to?" Davin asked.

  "Well, it was on that leg of my journey that Captain Zayne and his men finally decided I was not the witch they had hoped for. They were superstitious enough to maroon me at least, instead of just throwing me in the Katamic."

  "Sounds like the beginning of an entertaining memoir. Perhaps you should write your own story, Expert Kyrus, rather than copying those of others," King Gorden suggested with a nod.

  "Where did they leave you?" Davin asked.

  "An island in a tiny tropical chain, two days' sailing past hopelessly lost," Brannis said. "The natives and the pirates referred to it as Denku Appa, but I have yet to see it listed on any map."

  "How did you get back?"

  "I went looking for him," Soria said, smiling in Brannis's direction. "I had the means to hire a ship, and to buy the location of Kyrus's island from one of the pirate's crewmen."

  "Well Kyrus, it looks as if you were caught, more than you did any catching with Miss Soria," Davin remarked.

  "You have no idea ..."

  The conversation wound its way through less dangerous topics from there, and Brannis only had to keep answering from Kyrus's memories to construct a plausible story. Not having to impersonate both Kyrus and Erund was a welcome relief.

  Soria had clearly charmed Da
vin, and King Gorden, though more reserved, seemed to find her pleasant as well. To Brannis's surprise, the meal was no more than fresh bread and as much stew as he liked. The king's tastes were simple, and his guests partook similarly.

  "Expert Davin, if you would be so kind as to show Miss Soria about the palace, I would like to speak to Expert Hinterdale in private.”

  Both Davin and Soria seemed surprised by the turn of events. Brannis was as well, but with different reason. I wonder just how much Lord Harwick said in his letters. As Davin escorted Soria from the dining room, she gave an inquiring look over her shoulder, to which Brannis nodded in reassurance.

  The king stood from his seat at the head of the table, and reseated himself across from Brannis. He brought his wine glass with him; it had recently been refilled by Mrs. Avertrom whom he gave leave to retire for the evening.

  "So, your curiosity must be a swarm of bees within your head by now," King Gorden said. He looked Brannis dead on. Brannis felt like the king was waiting for him to give away some secret in his eyes.

  "Flock of songbirds perhaps, Your Majesty," Brannis replied.

  "Your friend Davin is an excellent scribe. His work is exemplary, his wit is sharp. He was only ever intended to be a temporary stand-in however."

  "Oh?" Brannis tried to gain ground on the king, to see where he was going before he got there. It was not the direction his thoughts had first run when Davin and Soria were sent away.

  "Yes, I had wanted you to take over as my personal scribe," King Gorden said. Brannis realized his mouth had opened without issuing a sound. "I had to separate the two of you, of course, so you could build the prestige necessary to keep me from seeming the senile old monarch for appointing you."

  "Thank you, your majesty. If I might ask, what did I do to gain your interest?"

  "It was on the advice of my former scribe, Expert Oriedel Conniton. He was the one who said I should seek to employ you."

  "But why?"Brannis asked.

  "Possibly because you have the audacity to question a king?" King Gorden said. A wry smile graced the old monarch's face as Brannis felt himself flush. "It is a quality that few enough have, even in this age of the people. Prince Jathan realizes that he will never rule as my heir—he’ll become just a lord with a fancier title. Still, too many people treat me as if I had some special wisdom, some power that made my thoughts worthy of carrying the power of law."

  "But sire, you are wise. Everyone is agreed. Even people in foreign lands speak well of you."

  "If people realized what 'wise' meant, they would throw it about with less abandon. I am merely prudent and cautious. I am a diplomat at heart. That is what folk confuse with wisdom."

  "Diplomacy requires wisdom," Brannis argued. Well, not Rashan's sort.

  "Wisdom aids, yes, but diplomacy is the art of mixing lies and truth to best advantage. When lies result in peace and open trade, few worry over them. You would make a good diplomat yourself, though not nearly the diplomat that Miss Soria would be."

  "Oh, I would caution against making her an ambassador. She has quite a temper, and I doubt she would keep it in check long if she knows she is being lied ... to ..." Brannis trailed off, realizing the implication of the king's comment about his diplomatic skills. What does he know?

  "Lord Harwick has told me a great deal, including several things that you left out of your tale," King Gorden said. He paused as if to give Brannis time to squirm.

  "Well, brevity seemed more appropriate for dinner conversation ..."

  "Come now, Sir Brannis, I know more than that," King Gorden said in awkward Kadrin.

  "So you ... are ... So who else are you?" Brannis asked, switching from Acardian to Kadrin, mid-sentence.

  "Oh, no one, actually. I seem to have acquired a number of advisors over the years who have acted in two worlds," King Gorden said, reverting to his more fluent Acardian. "I had been hoping to add another. I hear that you are rather well-connected in the other world, and a native as well."

  "You know about that?"

  "Lord Harwick purports to keep little from me. I know better of course, but of the other world there is little need to keep secrets. You are not, in fact, Expert Kyrus Hinterdale, but came here through a feat of mighty magic."

  "So you wanted me for another twinborn advisor?"

  "Oh yes, that is the word I was searching for. Lord Harwick seldom uses the term."

  "Did Expert Oriedel know that I was twinborn when he recommended me?"

  "He claimed he had reason to suspect, but he was not certain."

  "What made him suspect? At the time Expert Davin was summoned away to your service, I did not know myself."

  "Well," King Gorden said, "you might have to ask him yourself. I do not know. He left word with Expert Davin that you ought to visit him, should you have the chance. Lord Harwick's name was given as a second, in the event that you did not make your visit before his demise."

  "I think I shall do just that."

  "Davin can give you the directions to his country home," King Gorden said.

  "If you do not mind my asking, Your Majesty, is your palace always so deserted? Since you sent your cook home for the evening, there has been no sound."

  "Seems unsafe, does it?" King Gorden asked. "Well I have guards about most nights, but they were given leave. Lord Harwick told me enough of you that I knew I could not have stopped your lady-friend from slaughtering all my guards had you come with ill intent. Tezuan trained and a sorceress atop that? I took Lord Harwick's testimonial on your character as sufficient to guard my own life, but I was not prepared to waste others' lives on my folly should either of us have been mistaken."

  "I think that is what the people mean by wisdom, Your Majesty," Brannis said. It seemed a strange opinion for a monarch to hold.

  "Sir Brannis, a year from now, or five, or ten, depending on how well this life-extension business works, I will see Acardia truly pass into the safe keeping of her people. They are Acardia's future, not I."

  * * * * * * * *

  "So, are you going to tell me what you and King Gorden talked about?" Soria asked. They were back in their carriage, headed toward The Golden Elk.

  "Maybe after you tell me about your adventures with Expert Davin. I suspect the other subject will consume the evening," Brannis replied.

  "He's a sweet old man, Brannis. He's everything I would have expected from what you told me of him. He showed me about, but he spent more of the time slyly asking about you. He really has been worried."

  "Well, that was the main reason for coming, after all," Brannis said. "By the by, did you notice anything unusual in the palace? Did you look about for magic, by any chance?"

  "A bit, but mostly I was finding out all about Kyrus from when he was younger," Soria said, grinning and throwing herself into Brannis's lap. "You were quite the little bookweevil."

  "I was a scribe, it sort of comes bundled in with the job. I shudder to think all the things he told you about ... me," Brannis said. He shook his head to clear it. "I mean about Kyrus. I never did any of the things he told you. I never met the man before tonight, mind you."

  Soria laughed and shook her head. "You were happy to see him. You hugged him like family. You knew him all right, and you met him—as Kyrus. Now, enough about my night, tell me about yours. What did the king want with you?"

  "He knows."

  "Knows what?"

  "Everything, I think. He is not twinborn, but Caladris shared everything with him. He spoke Kadrin. He said that Oriedel Conniton, his former scribe, had wanted me for his successor, but he needed me to become an Expert first, so they took Davin to free me of my apprenticeship. Expert Oriedel even left word that he wanted to see me."

  "Well, I guess that beats my night of old stories and architecture. So is that where we're off to next, to see this old scribe?"

  "I suppose we ought to," Brannis replied, rubbing his chin. "I had other plans though. I was going to scout an area upriver, to the spot where the capitol
of Azzat would lie if this were Veydrus."

  "That's a bit random," Soria said. She slid off his lap to sit next to him, her frivolity momentarily checked. "You have some new scheme you didn't tell me of?"

  "Just yesterday, well, last night ... whatever time it is in Kadris from here, I got word of a demon in Azzat who might be willing to help me with Rashan."

  "Oh, that sounds like a wonderful plan. How about you pack that one back up wherever you pulled it from, and we go see the nice old scribe?"

  "Rashan is getting worse. He was back for Founding Day and threw a blast of lightning at one of the pageant illusions. He kills, he said, because it keeps him alive. What sort of delusion is that? A dangerous one, I say. One day I will be the one he takes issue with, I know it. Dolvaen was right in that much—we will not live out our days in peace together."

  "And you think that some demon in Azzat will give you the answers you need?" Soria asked.

  "I need to find some weakness of his. There is little to be found in Veydrus among the histories. I have some inkling that Rashan was twinborn and once had a living twin in Tellurak, but there is no one as old as Rashan in this world. Few enough folk remember him alive in our—my world. I want to speak to one of the few who knew him personally."

  "Well, I don't like you going off to meet some demon. It seems dangerous."

  "No more dangerous than the demon I already have."

  "We'll go see the scribe first and maybe something will come up to make you forget about visiting demons."

  "Fine. We will go there first. We will still go find a place for me to transfer to in Veydrus though. If we do not, I will just have to go blindly, maybe to where Scar Harbor is, and find transport from there."

  Soria frowned but did not press the argument. It was cold in Golis that night, and no warmer in The Golden Elk.

  * * * * * * * *

  The morning air was sharp with the smell of fallen leaves. Grey clouds blotted out every bit of sky and sun, portending snow. Brannis missed his armor more for its protection against the cold than for any fear of danger in the Acardian countryside. Soria rode beside him, her mood much improved since switching from unfamiliar finery into riding leathers. Though Brannis could not see them hidden under her cloak, he knew that her runed daggers were no doubt bringing her some measure of comfort as well.