Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  "And for that Rashan slew nearly the whole of the Inner Circle? What game is she playing at?"

  "She warned me that Rashan is growing fearful that I might endanger him through incompetence, if not malice. If not for her, I might have taken the brunt of Rashan's tantrum."

  "You're out of allies, Brannis. If he turns on you, there's no one to stand with you. Aloisha would side with him sooner than you, and I have no idea how Fenris kept himself off the end of Rashan's sword. I'd sooner have suspected him than Dolvaen, if I didn't know better from you."

  "We should make for Scar Harbor,” Brannis said. “I have no idea how Lord Harwick is taking this, but it seems my best ally has gone blind in one eye and the Solaran family is destined to be a Tellurak-only gathering. I wonder if I should send for my father to move to the city as well."

  "I agree, good plan for this world, but you need to get to safety in Veydrus too. Even if your trollop savior doesn't set her dog on you, the demon is more monster than human. We'll meet up, take the sky as our estate, and have some adventures well away from Kadrin."

  "That sounds lovely, but I think I understand Rashan. He is lonely, paranoid, finds more deception than truth in the words spoken to him. I am still not certain that I must be the one to unmake him, but if I am I would rather be prepared," Brannis said. "I am still piecing together clues from that book of prophecies you left for me. It lays bare a great deal that I would never have guessed about Rashan."

  Soria looked away. She seemed as if she might say something but as she parted her lips, she paused. She poked her tongue out a bit, moistening her mouth, but said nothing.

  "Axterion has been of some help as well," Brannis continued. "Before he went to his final battle as warlock, Rashan visited both the stone folk beneath the Cloud Wall and the forest spirits of Podawei Wood. The former rebuked him and the latter were not to be found, or so he claimed. Or so he claimed." Brannis craned his neck up to put his face closer to Soria's.

  "You think he did find the forest spirits, then?" Soria asked.

  "I cannot say for sure, but I think he meant to, and I think he had more thought in going there than just asking their aid against Loramar."

  "The book," Soria said. "You found something of use in it?"

  "I think he might have found the secret he was looking for in there. 'One vase, filling fast, spilling faster / To see another, no mirror may reflect it / Where to find its shadow, and absence not a copy / Seek a way among the spirits'."

  "He sought among the forest spirits then?"

  "I think so, yes. I cannot assign exact dates to the entries, but this one I think predated his trip to Podawei. It must have. He had so little time between that trip and the Battle of the Dead Earth. I feel like I have all the pieces. But what to do with them?

  "Axterion thinks Rashan might have come to Tellurak. He thinks that the mysterious figure in my father's book is Rashan himself," Brannis said.

  Soria stood then, clambering backward out of the tent to do so. She needed no dressing, for they had gone to sleep bundled in their traveling furs. Brannis followed a moment later, curious about what had prompted her retreat. He found her near the horses, looking southwest toward the Skelton Peaks.

  "I have a confession," Soria said as he approached. She did not turn to him as she spoke. "That book of prophecies was shown to me by Illiardra when she was in Kadris for the wedding. She left it with a purpose, I thought, so I passed it on to you in secret."

  "Yes ..." Brannis knew that much.

  "She left another book as well, one I didn't want to show you," Soria said. She turned then, searching for his reaction. All Brannis had to offer was a small, confused frown.

  "What book?" he asked. He walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. Thick furs separated them, preventing him from feeling her warmth. But he could feel the frailty in her. For all her warrior prowess, she was slender and insubstantial in his embrace.

  "The Peace of Tallax. Have you read it?" she asked. Brannis shook his head. "I thought not, else you may have had other ideas about what to do with Rashan."

  "If you knew it could help me with him, why withhold it?"

  "Because I didn't like the manner it would prompt you to do it in. Everyone through the Academy hears the name Tallax, but they never tell his story. I don't know how much of the book is true, but Illiardra left it, so I suspect she at least believed it."

  "She ought to know. She told me she knew the man personally," Brannis said.

  Soria shuddered. "Just thinking of someone being that old bothers me. Only gods should be so ancient."

  "If you chance to meet her again, maybe you could ask her if she knew them too," Brannis suggested.

  "I almost wonder whether you aren't joking," Soria said. She shook her head. "In any event, go to the libraries and see if you can find another copy. If you can't, I'll sneak back and bring you the one I have."

  "Fine, I will. Today though I think we take a new direction. I see you staring off at those mountains. I cannot help thinking of them too. I think there is enough in that book," Brannis said, pointing back to the tent where their things were stashed, "that we might find Rashan's old fortress."

  "Even if we find it, what good would it do us?" Soria asked. "I don't relish using my magic to try to dig the place out. I'm not like you with that mighty Source. It's tiring work after a while."

  "What better remedy for a rockslide than an Avalanche?" Brannis asked.

  * * * * * * * *

  Northern Takalia was a beautiful land in winter, and late autumn might well have been winter for all the difference there was between them. The caravan plied their path in the snowy ruts that marked the road. Old wagon drivers knew the trails well enough from city to city that there was little chance of getting lost aside from a blizzard. The light snowfall, which never quite seemed to fully stop, was little hindrance. Wendell, Zell, and Jadon huddled beneath blankets in the back of a wagon.

  "Frostwatch, my aching knees," Wendell muttered. "Wake here from a fevered sleep, and I could swear it Hearthwatch."

  "These are the Northlands," Zell said. The cold air cleared his lungs and did not sweat him like an overwrought horse as the summer heat did. "We can make for the South, if you'd rather, but I think it's safer up here."

  "How safe will we be if my mind is too fixated on my shivering to work magic?" Wendell asked, slipping into Kadrin. "Have you any new word of Anzik?"

  "No, and I don't know when I might. Rashan slaughtered the Inner Circle last night. If there was some scheme, it might have died in the Sanctum. I haven't asked Kyrus yet. He's been a hard man to see lately."

  "Time to make a point of it. I suspect he knows," Wendell said.

  "Talk to him yourself; I'm not your lackey," Zellisan snapped. Wendell was huddled beneath blankets, as unimposing a figure as could be. He looked older than his years of late.

  "I can't. He's dangerous to be around. You are guard captain of the palace, your movements are explicable. I want no hint of my life on this side to come across the warlock's thoughts. Let him think me just a useful minion and nothing more," Wendell said.

  "Are you talk Anzik?" Jadon asked. His Kadrin was halting, thick with Megrenn in it, but clear enough to prove he knew what he said.

  "Yes, we are, Jadon," Wendell said, continuing on with Kadrin. "We will find you and bring you home."

  "I go home. I on sky boat," Jadon said.

  "Well now, look who's started paying attention," Zellisan said with a smile. "Jadon, who took you on the sky boat?"

  Jadon paused for a moment. It appeared he might lapse back into the long silence that pervaded his days.

  "I took it. Just me."

  "You stole an airship?" Wendell asked.

  Jadon paused a moment first but nodded.

  "Bring it back," Wendell shouted. He looked about abashed as the driver and riders on other wagons turned to see the cause of the commotion. They heard only a man yelling at his grandson in a foreign tongue. Wendell lowere
d his voice. "... before you get hurt."

  "I not hurt me. Going home." Jadon turned away and looked to the countryside.

  "Jadon ..." Wendell attempted to get his attention, to no avail.

  "Looks like you might have to go looking for him," Zell said.

  * * * * * * * *

  "That's a boy. You don't have to answer nothing to 'em," Tanner said. His Megrenn was passable, and he had made good use of it that night. He and the boy shared quarters on the ship and Anzik's waking had roused him. Deep sleep was a trap many twinborn fell to, but Tanner slept like a guard dog and it served him well.

  "I like it here," Anzik said.

  "Well if you tell me where they're taking your friend Jadon, I can send someone to help him too," Tanner said.

  "We are on the road to Kistark," Anzik replied.

  "That should help." Tanner patted the boy on the head and returned to his bunk. "Now get some sleep. Let me know if you need my help again."

  * * * * * * * *

  As they unmade the little camp that had served them overnight, a breakfast of cured sausage and bread sat in their stomachs. Brannis and Soria re-armed themselves and prepared for whatever lay ahead.

  "I was thinking ..." Soria began.

  "That would explain the peaceful passing of breakfast," Brannis joked. She gave a frown and smile at once, betraying both her amusement and her lack of approval.

  "I was thinking that ... maybe we should head right to Scar Harbor. We may not like the state we'll find Lord Harwick in, but we should find out soon."

  "We might also sail from Scar Harbor down to Trebber's Cove and come out a day ahead. I had started to consider the same thing—my armor is there as well—though I was also thinking of saving two more days and going straight from Piper's Sands, since we're so close by," Brannis said.

  "I see I wasn't the only one pondering over scorched sausage this morning. We can be there aftermorrow," Soria said.

  Brannis was kicking snow onto their cook-fire and stopped short. "What? Is that even a word?"

  "In Kheshi it is. That's the closest I could make it in Acardian. It's a common enough joke in Khesh that you can tell Acardians don't plan ahead because they have no such word as aftermorrow," Soria said.

  "Oh. Well, we might make it sometime after nightfall if we ride hard," Brannis suggested.

  "Don't think so. You aren't getting off that easy. We're still stopping at your parents' farm on the way. I won't put off meeting them. Besides, in this snow the horses might get hurt if we push them too hard," Soria said. To make her point, she mounted hers.

  "Kyrus's parents," Brannis muttered, making sure to do so loud enough that Soria heard him. "Never met them myself."

  "Well, you can either introduce them to me or to both of us, your choice," Soria said. She put her heels to her horse and rode off, leaving Brannis to scramble into his own saddle and try to catch up.

  Chapter 11 - Next Resort

  The summons was far from unexpected, but the hour was inconvenient. The messenger was Fenris Destrier, one of the few people still living in Kadris with the power to knock unbidden on Kyrus's warded door and awaken him. Kyrus had been dragged from his full attention in Tellurak unwillingly and found himself shortchanged in the trade of Soria's affections for Rashan's urgent gathering.

  Kyrus ordered up breakfast as he dressed, refusing to be marched off to the emperor's audience chamber famished and groggy in his nightclothes. Remembering why the meeting was to take place in the audience chamber rather than the Inner Sanctum kept him from lingering in his room to enjoy his meal in leisure. A bit of eggs and bread were all he ate, but the teacup and kettle he brought with him, the latter bobbing along just behind him at his command.

  The palace halls teemed with sorcerers when he reached the ground floor. It looked as if every sorcerer in the city had been summoned, even masters from the Academy. There was a crowd backed up trying to get into the audience chamber, but it parted for Kyrus. Men and women who had waited amiably in a tight-packed cluster at the doors jostled and shoved to be out of his way, teapot and all. They are probably nearly as afraid of me as they are of him.

  Kyrus noticed that there were nobles mixed in among the sorcerers, adding a layer of puzzlement to his deductions. He had assumed the meeting was to be either a haranguing of the empire's sorcerers or yet another bloodletting. The colorful attire he was accustomed to seeing the nobles wear to court was scant that morning. Blending in was the order of the day if one wanted to avoid the warlock's attention.

  The chamber was filling rapidly and it appeared as if the gathering might be forced to spill into the outer halls. Emperor Sommick sat on his throne upon the low dais while Rashan stood beside him, resting a hand on the back of his throne. Kyrus noticed that the emperor leaned away from the hand, as if afraid to brush against it. Beside them were six chairs to each side, one step below the top. Aloisha and Fenris sat in two of them.

  Rashan stood with an inscrutable expression. Kyrus made a mental note never to play Crackle with the demon. Whatever direction his morning's plan would take, Rashan gave away nothing by his eyes, face, or posture. Emperor Sommick, by contrast, looked ill with worry. He cowered in the restrictive confines of his throne.

  "Welcome everyone," Rashan said, voice barely above his normal conversant volume. The room hushed such that, though Rashan spoke quietly, he could be heard from the rear of the chamber. "I would like to introduce you to someone. This man seated here before us is our emperor, Sommick the First. This is a very simple fact, yet a number of our colleagues were unable to reconcile it with their vision of how an empire ought to be run. Having now served five of them, please allow me to assure you that an empire requires an emperor; they are quite bound up in the very definition of the word."

  Rashan removed his hand from the throne, to the emperor's visible relief. He hopped up onto one of the ten empty chairs on the second step of the dais. "Those who had once schemed to replace an emperor with a construct of aether were killed this past autumn. I had extended leniency to those whose roles were of obedience rather than delegation. I gave them a chance at redemption. Few ... far too few ... took my great mercy for the gift that it was. The Inner Sanctum is even now being scrubbed clean of the blood of traitors who thought that because my eyes looked to our enemies abroad I did not have able and loyal eyes left behind to watch over their machinations."

  Rashan spread his arms, indicating the row of a dozen chairs. "Nine seats unoccupied—more dead among the Inner Circle than yet living. I will admit that in a moment of ill temper I considered disbanding the Inner Circle and seeing to all the Imperial Circle's affairs myself. I am at least certain of my own continued loyalty to the Kadrin Empire. But no, the Inner Circle has served the empire well before and shall again, but with fresh appointees."

  Rashan stepped down to a more dignified station at the emperor's side. "You have all been so very quiet. Let us see if we can rouse some life to what must be a number of quite overwrought minds. What virtues must a sorcerer possess to ascend to the heights of the Inner Circle?" There was silence in the wake of his question. He posed it in the form of an Academy master's query; he knew the answers he sought and awaited correct responses. I wonder what the penalty would be for a wrong answer. The ones that the Academy taught were well ensconced in Brannis's memories. "Ah, but no one is talkative this morning. Very well, I shall not force you."

  He moved over next to Fenris and laid a hand on the elderly sorcerer's shoulder.

  "Wisdom," Fenris called out, his voice echoing from the vaulted ceiling. Rashan nodded. The warlock kept that hand in place and rested his other on Aloisha's shoulder. She perked up, straightening her back before responding.

  "Ambition," she practically shouted, eyes flashing. By all accounts she ought to have been proud. At that very moment, by rank she was third among the entire Imperial Circle.

  Rashan lifted his hands from the two remaining Inner Circle members and into the air, upturned as he waited. "A
nd power," he finished. They were not entirely in line with the ideals that the Academy taught. Scholarship had been replaced by ambition in Rashan's virtues, but Kyrus suspected some more subtle game. He waited for what would come next.

  "Nine positions are available among the Inner Circle. The nine most worthy candidates will be selected to replace them. I shall choose three each who best exemplify my three virtues. The three wisest among you, the three most ambitious from among our rising young sorcerers, and of course the three most powerful."

  The room began to murmur as if it were a living thing. Rashan smiled. He hates idleness, the passive acceptance. He would rather they object than obey ... Kyrus looked up, seeking Rashan's gaze, the warlock's eyes lit and his smile grew when he caught Kyrus's look. The demon winked. Ambition! He wants someone to just claim those three spots right here. Not me though. The wink was hint enough to caution Kyrus against spoiling the puzzle for everyone else.

  "Wisdom is a terribly chancy thing to judge in a short time," Rashan said, quieting the room once more. "I have several in mind. Fenris will be interviewing them, subject to my final approval. Ambition I have yet to decide on proper criteria for qualification." Kyrus fought to keep a grin from his face. Pride in my own cleverness will get me in trouble one day. "As for power, who can resist a draw? Those three positions we will fill after lunchtime today, on the Imperial Academy grounds, since I doubt we could fit all our eager onlookers within the palace courtyard."

  Emperor Sommick looked up to Rashan. The warlock nodded to him.

  "This audience is at an end," Sommick announced. The room began to clear. Conversations sprung up, especially toward the rear of the chamber, where being overheard by the warlock was less a concern. There was odd mix of anxiety and excitement. Kyrus pushed his way against the current of sorcerers. He was close to the front to begin with and none wanted to bar his path, so it was no difficult feat.