Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  "You've met Stalyart on the other side?" Denrik asked, raising an eyebrow. Tanner noticed the pirate's hand sliding toward his pistol. It's not cocked. I've got one pace and a lunge to run him through.

  "We're not plotting anything. I mean, we are ... but not against you—"

  "Oh, have it out, man. Enough word dancing."

  Tanner took a deep breath and tried again. "It's like this: Stalyart meets up with you in Veydrus, we go find Stalyart's Merciful and I go off with him, the two of us land in Takalia and start looking for Jadon. Meanwhile, I drop off Anzik and head back to Kadris. I tell Kyrus that you poofed away with the boy and the staff. You can still send messages back and forth with him, just with Stalyart added into the chain. Kyrus can talk to me, and I talk to Stalyart who talks to you."

  Denrik's hand stopped inching toward his pistol and went to his forehead again.

  "Just stop dripping near my maps and get out of here."

  "Hey, one last thing. If you've got any other coinblades out there looking for the kid, call 'em off. I don't want to cross blades over this if I don't have to."

  "I am afraid those cannons already fired, Mr. Tanner. These are not hunting dogs to be recalled with a whistle. You shall have to deal with the fellows as you find them."

  * * * * * * * *

  Yekina was cosmopolitan enough that a pair of foreigners did not stand out so much, especially so near the harbor. Every manner of legal trade was carried out in the makeshift marketplace of wharves and docks strictly overseen by Takalish officials. The less reputable sort of commerce took place as well, but more quietly than in most cities. Still, Stalyart's Merciful was able to take up a berth for long enough that he and Tanner could lose themselves in the city before anyone recognized them as pirates.

  "How did you ever manage to convince Captain Zayne to go along with our plan?" Stalyart asked, his habitual grin in full splendor.

  "I think he got sick of listening to me," Tanner replied. He pushed his way through the crowd to keep up with the jovial pirate as they left the Yekina waterfront. "Still better than getting tossed into the sea."

  "Indeed," Stalyart replied.

  "We should find a place for us to talk and to plan. I assume you have given some small thought to this?" Stalyart asked.

  "Small one, yeah. Biggest thing for me is getting back to Kadris on the other side. Should be two or three days." Tanner shrugged.

  "Until then?"

  "We enjoy the sights, drink some fine Takalish rotgut, and ask around if anyone's heard of Wendell the Wizard."

  "It is pretty here," Stalyart agreed, looking about at the buildings with the clear blue sky as a backdrop. "You can see the Narrack influence, clearly."

  "Wouldn't know, I’ve never traveled that far north," Tanner said. "Never needed to."

  "Ahh yes, the Kadrin Empire has everything," Stalyart said, smirking at Tanner. "Wealth, power, endless opportunities to—"

  "Eat a knife, Stalyart. You know I'm just a swordsman in the army. I do my traveling this side. Might do for a bit of a change though, if I make good with Kyrus."

  "Tell me, Mr. Tanner, do you lie to Captain Zayne as much as you have lied to Mr. Hinterdale?" Stalyart asked. "I would not tell him, of course, I am merely curious. I lie to him with regularity."

  "Stop with that 'Mr.' stuff, we're not on a boat anymore. And yeah, maybe a little. He had me bent over a railing though, so I kept to the onboard side of the truth."

  "More the pity," Stalyart said, taking a sudden turn down a side street. Tanner hastened after him. "The captain could use more liars around him. He should not let his mind go soft, believing everything he hears."

  * * * * * * * *

  The five darshi coin rolled over tiny fingers in a series of awkward flips. Index finger to pinkie, pinkie back to index finger. The coin fell more often than it completed the journey cleanly. Zellisan watched in fascination, not with Jadon's skill or style, but with his stubborn persistence.

  "Look at him," Zell said. "Kid's been up since just after dawn. Aside from when you made him stop for breakfast, he's been at it all morning."

  "It is magic. Coins do not roll but that one does, you see," Wendell explained.

  "Eckles roll just fine. Give him one of those."

  "That is not the point. He is learning magic. It all starts with a firm basis in sleight of hand."

  "Magic, eh? Just parlor tricks by the look of it. You use real magic in your shows. I can tell the difference," Zell said. A sudden impulse made him pick up the helm at his feet. "Let's see if he's using your way or cheating a bit."

  Zell put on the helm, watching Jadon as he did. The instant the magical circlet concealed within touched his head, the world of light was overlaid with a stunning view of the aether. So vivid was the detail that he could even make out vague outlines of Sourceless objects.

  "Havoc!" Zellisan cursed. He leaped from his chair and rushed to the window. "They found us again. Get packed, we're leaving by the window. I'll hold them off."

  "How many?" Wendell asked, already stuffing everything he could lay hands on into their packs. Zellisan drew the longer of his swords. The runes' glow was nonexistent; he could only see it by the strange effect the runes had as they passed through aether.

  "Four ... no, make that six I think. They stationed lookouts."

  "Come on Jadon, time to go." Wendell put a hand on the boy's arm in an attempt to pry his attention from the coin. Jadon pulled away with a wordless grunt of frustration. The coin fell to the floor. Jadon ignored Wendell to retrieve it.

  "Jadon, men are coming to hurt us. We have to go. Now!"

  "I'm busy. Leave me alone," Jadon said. He sounded irritated, which was an improvement in a way, though it came at an inconvenient time.

  Zellisan watched the doorway, seeing through the walls and down the hall to the stairway at the end. Their would-be assailants still acted as if they had the element of surprise on their side, creeping soundlessly toward their room.

  "Jadon, there are times for practicing with coins, and there are times—"

  "Gimme that," Zell said, judging that he had a moment to spare. He snatched the coin from Jadon's fingers and tossed it out the window. "Go get your coin back and you can practice some more."

  "What did you do that for?" Wendell said in the whispering equivalent of a shout, more mindful of their stalkers than Zell. As if in answer to Wendell's question, Jadon made a faint wailing sound as he rushed to the window in distress to look for his coin. Zell shrugged.

  "Go help him down." Zell matched Wendell's harsh whisper. "I'll catch up when I can." He knew he took much for granted. Wendell was no young man to be climbing out windows. At his age, a slip could easily kill him. Jadon, on the other hand, was light with the supple limbs all children have before they flesh out in muscle and their bones grow sturdy. Clumsy though he might be, Zell knew Wendell could drop him a story to the ground and only need worry about skinned knees and crying.

  As the bounty hunters drew close, Zell spared a quick peek once more, lifting the circlet from his head just long enough to judge the distance to the door. He set himself a good pace back and settled into aether-vision.

  Four men stopped outside the door. To their credit, Zell heard nothing from their approach and would have been oblivious if not for the helm. He saw them clearly enough that he could count the fingers that one of them was holding up ... four ... three ... two ...

  Zell lurched for the door, shoulder leading, just as two of the men hunting for Jadon mirrored him. The bounty hunters hit the door first, snapping the latch with a crack of wood. Zell struck an instant later, slamming the door shut in their faces before they so much as glimpsed inside. Zell tried to jam his blade through the door with his momentum but came closer to disarming himself than penetrating the thick oak. Dratted thing! Where's Soria to fill it back up with aether? He realized how accustomed he had grown to the added sharpness that the runed blade had when properly maintained. But Wendell's Source was too weak fo
r filling even such paltry runes.

  Zell realized he was not going to gain a quick victory by sniffing out the ambush. He wrenched the stuck tip of his sword free of the door and spun away. The two men who had been leaning against the door after the mutual impact toppled into the room. The Sources all looked much the same to Zell, washing out all hint of color and any physical clue that might tell him where his attackers had come from.

  One shouted in something that sounded like Feru and pointed to the window where Wendell stood on a ledge just outside, attempting to coax Jadon through.

  Zell thrust with his sword, his blade's own weight and edge meeting the call to battle as it punctured the midsection of one of the fallen —the larger of the two by his quick guess. As the stricken attacker screamed, the other scrambled away from Zell. The other two men barged in before he could think to pursue.

  Neither of the two men still standing paid the least attention to their fallen comrade aside from stepping over him. Zell could not make out the weapons they held, and decided to retreat a step to remove the helm.

  "Give boy, you live," said a man who shifted from a blue-white Source to a Feru warrior in Zell's vision. The man was lanky and shorter than Zell, armed with a long knife and a leather sap. It seemed a poor bargaining position to Zell's thinking. The fellow was not even armored.

  The other assailant still on his feet was Takalish, brawny, and wore a bushy beard. He hung behind his fellow, whatever weapon he wielded carefully concealed from Zell's view.

  Zell swatted away a knife thrust with the helm in his hand. The Feru barely manage to deflect Zell's sword with his sap as he ducked under it. As the Feru ducked, Zell noticed that the weapon the Takalish attacker had been concealing was a pistol. Gouge that whoreson tinker's eyes out! Tanner and his kind can take their pistols and ... Zell could think of no clever use for pistols in the midst of battle with one trying to get a clear shot at him. It was an old style weapon, nothing like the fancy one Tanner had bought, but Zell blamed the Mad Tinker for their spread nonetheless. Zell changed his plan of attack.

  While the Feru fighter continued to try to bury a hand's length of steel in his gut, Zell spent most of his time dodging to spoil the pistolier's aim. It was like a children's tree-chase, except the tree was trying to stab him and the other player to shoot him.

  Zell heard rather than saw that the third man alive was sneaking past him toward the window. All would be for naught if the boy was caught anyway, but Zell could do neither Jadon nor Wendell any good as a target dummy filled with pistol shot.

  "Look out!" Zell shouted, hoping to both alert Wendell and distract his attackers. He threw his magical helm as hard as he could left-handed, missing the Feru and briefly spoiling the pistolier's aim. He charged forward, reckless but in need of reckless haste. The knife caught him full in the gut, but there was enough blubber behind his mail to absorb the blow and keep the blade from piercing. His own sword slid through the Feru's chest. Zell took the dying man by the collar as a shield and ram both, plowing toward the Takalish with the pistol and forcing him back into the hallway.

  A panicked shot pierced through Zell's shield to thump against his mail, its deadly force spent on a dead man. The wall across from the room came too quickly for the Takalish assailant to dodge, reload, or draw another weapon. Two men and a corpse crashed together, with Zell's sword adding another bit of meat to its credentials as a skewer. One man and two corpses tumbled in a heap to the floor.

  Zell looked back into the room and saw that the last remaining assailant, a burly Kheshi in armor much like Soria's, had caught Jadon by the arm.

  "No!" Zellisan heard the scream from outside in Wendell's voice. His own was caught still in his throat.

  * * * * * * * *

  Where did it go? Jadon wondered. He looked out the window and there were so many things to see. Too many things. Where did it go? I don't see it. I should be able to see it from here. It went through here, I saw it.

  Jadon looked down, thinking to start a closer search from the ground, but pulled back. Too far. Not going down that way. He knew he could go down out the door and down the stairs to get outside as well, but ... then he would not be able to see where it should be. Anything could happen to it while he was looking elsewhere.

  "Got you," a strange man said. Indeed the stranger was correct, as well. Jadon saw that the man, who had blue eyes, blond hair and a braided blond beard, two small scars on his left cheek, leather armor set with 113 metal studs (probably 230 if the patterns matched in back and the side he could not quite see), a belt with two small pouches (one that jingled with coins but probably did not contain the coin he was looking for), a dagger in a sheath, leather pants that did not have any studs at all, and shoes that were made up of woven leather straps. He was very interesting, but Jadon needed to find his coin. He pulled, trying to get back to the window. The man was too strong.

  Let me go! Jadon meant to shout, but neglected to put voice to it. It came out as a whining scream. Let me go! Let me go!

  Jadon felt himself handled roughly, spun around and pulled tight against the strange man. He heard the dagger slide free of its sheath.

  "Keep back. You let me go with boy," the man said. No, I'm not going with you. I have a coin to look for and magic to learn. I am very busy. Jadon was feeling increasingly trapped. The man's hold on him was making it too hard to breathe.

  "You only get paid if the boy lives. I know it and you can't deny that," Zellisan said. What a weird job he has ...

  "Oh, maybe, maybe. But can you deny I need to get away quick? No time. I run with boy now or I kill boy and run. Move aside." Jadon felt the dagger press against his neck, the flat of the blade forcing his chin up.

  Too close! Too close! Dangerous! Please stop!

  Jadon's mind raced about, looking to escape his dreadful helplessness.

  Pull. Draw. The voice was familiar, but not his own. Kill. He knew the voice, it was his other mind, the one he tucked away, the one with the eyes that opened in the magic world.

  Wendell told me to push you away, to leave you alone and stay here.

  Pull his Source. It will work. You saw. You know.

  Jadon had seen; he did know.

  It was easy. The dagger at his throat fell away. The arm crushing him against the stranger's body went limp. Jadon stumbled and fell over the stranger as the dead weight of that arm overbalanced him. He looked down and the stranger was dead. There was a ... hole ... where his life belonged. Jadon had stolen it. It burned.

  Take the burning inside you. Put it somewhere else. Do it now before it hurts you. The voice had shown quite convincingly that it knew what it was talking about.

  Thank you, Anzik. Jadon remembered the voice's name as the stranger's corpse, and much of the room around them, caught fire.

  Chapter 7 - Attention to Detail

  "You could have told me," Kyrus said. He glared across his father's old desk, now claimed by his uncle Caladris. The library was now his uncle's study. He remembered standing there as a boy—though it was Brannis who had been there, not he—begging his father's permission to enter the knighthood. The privilege of interrogation now lay on his side.

  "I could tell you a great many things, many of them inadvisable. I had to consider the very real possibility that you would prefer Maruk dead a second time. How was I to know that he had information to bribe you with?" Caladris asked, spreading his arms wide and leaning back in his chair. He smiled, but Kyrus thought he could detect artifice in it; it did not match his eyes, which were watching Kyrus too intently.

  "What else do you know? I tire of piecing things together only to find out that I could have been told beforehand and saved the trouble."

  "You tasked me with running a great many things with which you did not want to be bothered. Are you having a change of heart? Would you like to hear of every sordid scheme I have thwarted, of everything planned against you? Do you want to hear all the clacksome gossip that gets dumped across my desk like pig dung
and whispered to me like prophecy from a two-copper drunkard?" Caladris asked, voice rising as he went.

  "You are a fine debater, Caladris. I wonder how often such diversions took Brannis from his course. I shall not let it work on me, though. You know the difference between what I wish to know and what you tell me. Tell me about my father's dealings in this world and the other. Tell me about the plots you hatch with Rashan. If you want me for an ally, I refuse to continue stumbling blindly in the shadow you cast." Kyrus put both hands on the desk and leaned across. His eyes were locked on Caladris's. Both men had shielding spells active.

  "I taught you a great deal, Kyrus," Caladris said slowly, placing careful emphasis on the Telluraki name. "You should take that into consideration when laying accusations at my feet. We shall be lucky to live through Rashan's reign. I need you alive and well to dispose of him, not to mention a good deal more competent than you are presently."

  "Rashan reigns over nothing now. Emperor Sommick does, and he delegated much of his power to me. That is something that perhaps you—"

  Caladris shot forward in his chair, a startling maneuver for so large a man. He put his face close enough that Kyrus could smell the brandy on his breath.

  "That I what? You think you run anything here that he cares about? Do you think you two whistling for the dog is what causes the beast to follow? This is Rashan's empire now. You handle the business that bores him while he goes out and plays amid the blood. Your time is best spent preparing for the day he decides you are more a threat to him than an aid. Have you managed to learn anything of use that I have not spoon fed to you?"

  Kyus regarded him steadily, waited for him to settle back into his chair. The strain is weighing on him, Kyrus realized. I shall gain nothing by antagonizing him.

  "Yes, I have. That book that my father's twin gave me had a few insights into a man named Agga, who he is convinced was Rashan's twin. It sheds little light on him other than what we already know of the warlock, except in the last entry. It tells of a stranger who came to Agga's stronghold, met with the old spymaster, and destroyed the whole place as he left. The writer had no explanation for it but it seems clear that it was magic at work."