by J. S. Morin
"You misunderstand. Brannis, not Kyrus. Rashan knows the difference. The man you rode into Scar Harbor with today. For some reason, Rashan is willing to pay me the lives of all my people for his blood."
Soria pulled away from Rakashi. Her hands flinched toward her back where her daggers rested before she stopped herself. "What did you tell him?"
"Tell him?" Rakashi asked, incredulous. "It was an ultimatum. He did not even await a response."
"But surely you can't—"
"Kill Brannis? Do you mean the moral or the practical sense? The better question is: what choice do I have? Can I weigh one life against the lives of all my people? I would gladly give my own, but that was not the demon's price."
"I won't let you," Soria replied. The steel in her voice had never been directed in Rakashi's direction before. He found himself shrinking back from her.
"I need an alternative."
"We can tell Brannis, and—"
"Have him kill me?" Rakashi asked. "Brannis already has doubts about me fighting on the other side of his war. And what then, fake his death? Ask Kyrus to lie to a demon whose place in history is king of lies?"
"Who says Rashan keeps his word even if you ..." Soria trailed off, unable to say the words "kill Brannis." She swallowed. "He's not known for keeping bargains."
"A better point, which leads me to my suggestion: you must ensure Kyrus confronts Rashan before the first day of Summer. It is the only way to be sure."
"What if he isn't ready by then?"
"Make him ready. The first of Summer is not far off."
"Fine," Soria relented. "But you need to promise not to harm Brannis. We'll figure out another way, whether Kyrus kills Rashan or not."
"So long as you keep the secret of how Iridan died. I will defend myself if he finds out and seeks vengeance."
Soria nodded. "Deal."
Chapter 15 - Peacemongering
Kyrus felt a pang when he awoke. In the moment before his mind had adjusted to Veydrus he felt the absence of Soria by his side. He laid a hand on the empty side of the bed and felt the blankets. They were cold from the lack of body heat. Kyrus found that he was fully dressed from the previous day as he pushed himself up to a seated position on the edge of the bed.
I wonder if these smell of demon? he mused as he changed into fresh clothing. The outfit from his trip to Azzat burst into flame and was ash before it landed in the fireplace. Details. Keep atop the details and I shall keep ahead of him. Burning my clothes is no more paranoid than going about with a shielding spell up constantly, after all. Kyrus looked at himself in the mirror and saw bleary eyes and unshaven scruff.
"Are you real, too?" Kyrus asked his reflection. "Another world inside the glass? I dare you to do anything but mimic me ..." but the image declined his challenge. He adjusted his shielding spell until it covered the skin of his face but left his nascent beard exposed. With a swipe of his hand he incinerated the tiny hairs. He shook his head as he considered how long that whole process used to take him in Scar Harbor.
Tanner should be delivering Anzik Fehr soon. It is a long-coin wager, but if Jinzan gives up the staff I might just stand a chance against Rashan. Kyrus broke the mirror's gaze with a small effort of will. His mixed vision showed him a room that was a fortress of aether. He could not see out through his own wards and nothing (that he knew of) could see in. He was alone, that reflection in the mirror the only thing that even gave a semblance of companionship. Kyrus gave a long look at the empty spot in his bed next to the impression where he had lain. I should tell her to keep the book. I can find another copy or maybe Juliana can read the key parts and Soria can relay them to me. Kyrus released his wards. He was prepared to start his day with a bit of library browsing. There is too great a risk of Rashan returning without warning while—
"Good morning," Rashan greeted him the moment the door opened. Kyrus's thoughts splashed to a puddle at his feet as he lost hold of them. Kyrus drew before he knew why he was doing so. Rashan's eyes widened in response. "Wait!"
Kyrus held up his hands in apology. "Gut me! Would you kindly send someone with a Source to fetch me if you must see me before morning feast? I am used to seeing anyone beyond the door before I open it. Good morning, yourself."
"A case of fraying nerves?" Rashan asked. He held out a hand to the side and a small tray of morning pastries, bacon and tea floated to him from a waiting cart.
"A case of expecting Jinzan Fehr to break into the palace one day to settle his grudge with me, more like," Kyrus replied. It was one of a handful of lies he had prepared to diffuse quarrels with Rashan. That quiver now held one fewer arrow.
"You sleep soundly from what I hear, but I would hope you would awaken at the shock of a transference spell," Rashan said. Kyrus looked over the morning feast options and selected a meal. "I know I am certainly aware of them."
Kyrus stopped, a strip of bacon held in both teeth and hand. He bit it in half, chewing as he waited for Rashan to continue.
"Go anywhere fun? Anywhere I might enjoy hearing about?" Rashan asked. Kyrus waved him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.
"I had a hunch about where that Megrenn might be hiding with the Staff of Gehlen," Kyrus said. He put the rest of the slice of bacon into his mouth and washed it down with a swallow of tea.
"Oh, where did you think he could have gone?"
"Azzat," Kyrus answered. Rashan froze. "I figured that they do not tolerate outsiders. If someone could convince them to make an exception, it would be an ideal refuge."
"And ..."
A plan was trying to form in Kyrus's mind. There were pitfalls aplenty when lying to Rashan, but played well it could be more valuable. Just enough of a lie to cover the incriminating truths ...
"I met with Xizix. It seemed like he was the only one there who spoke Kadrin," Kyrus said. Rashan's expression turned to ice. "I gathered that you two had a falling out some time ago, and he seemed none too pleased for me to be there. He never threatened outright violence, but I could never be certain of his intent. I made my excuses, and got out of there as soon as decorum allowed."
"Did you manage to discover anything of use?" Rashan asked. Kyrus saw what looked like relief on the demon's face. I should know better than to assume he really is. If he can feign drunkenness and friendship, why should I believe any reaction of his?
"I got a lot of old history about immortals and gods poured into my ears. I heard him call the Azzatians 'my children' enough times to wonder if they might actually all be blood descendants of his. He told me I was never to return to Azzat, and that he would be less than cordial if I did. Between the here and there, I asked a lot of questions and got answers that had no bearing on them. It was like trying to eat soup with a fork."
"Well, that can be expected. Most immortals have little better to do with their time but waste the time of others," Rashan said. "I never did manage to learn the joy the others take in elaborate idleness. I studied, I practiced, I learned. I felt idle by my standards, but I did more of substance in a season than any of them did in a dozen winters. Xizix might be an exception of course, but who knows how much effort he actually puts into running that kingdom of his. Still, you should not be disappointed by your failure. Just walking away from that place with your head on is a victory of sorts."
"What was it that you came to see me about this morning, anyway?" Kyrus asked. He filled his mouth with half a pastry.
"Well, to make you aware of my return, and to find out where you had transferred from in the night," Rashan said.
Kyrus nodded, still chewing. "Good," he replied as soon as he swallowed. "Then I think I will get on with my day. Thank you for the morning feast. You know how to find me." Kyrus stepped past Rashan and grabbed the door handle. "We have an empire to save, right?"
Kyrus smiled as soon as he was out of sight down the hallway. The dumbfounded expression on Rashan's face was worth the effort. You guess for once, Rashan. Enough of playing for a stalemate.
; * * * * * * * *
The sounds of the sea were soothing. The rocky shoreline of southwestern Ghelk was an idyllic spot to await the arrival of Anzik and the traitorous Tanner who had flown off with him. Jinzan sat on a wave-smoothed boulder that would have been submerged had the tide been in. Of late, Jinzan had been around so many chemical elixirs and rotting corpses that his sense of smell had gone into remission, or else the salt air might have cheered him as well. Days had shifted into nights and back again in the crypts, and he had remained hunched over crumbling pages and flesh laid bare of skin. He had learned to block from his mind the physical hardships of sitting motionless on a hard stool for a long time, along with fatigue and hunger. So too he had warded away the pleasant kiss of sunshine that warmed his face, though the brightness bothered his eyes.
He sat and watched the shadows move among the tall rocks. He watched the tide approach, wave by wave over hours. The gulls that circled the beach grew incautious of him, so little did he resemble any creature they were used to seeing. One suffered for its folly when, within arm’s reach, Jinzan reached out and pulled its Source free. Jinzan fed on the aether within and flung the corpse into the water, not even bothering to practice his animations.
A creaking in the air whispered of a ship's riggings. The Kadrin airships were based on their own primitive sailing ships, nothing so sleek and powerful as the Fair Trader, but Jinzan knew a ship when he heard one. He did not turn but saw the massive shadow flicker by and blur into obscurity over the water. He did look up then, and saw what he expected: the vessel that should be bringing Anzik back to him. He switched to the aether and welcomed a respite from the sun's glare. Aboard the ship a few Sources stood out but none like the small one that had to be his son.
"Welcome home, my son," Jinzan said. His hoarse voice barely rose above the shushing of the Aliani Sea. He set the butt end of the Staff of Gehlen into the wet sand and rose to his feet. The tide washed lightly over his shoes. He saw it but felt neither coldness nor wetness. I wonder if I can unlearn this once Rashan is dead. What good will three wives do me if I can feel nothing of them?
The ship circled low and came to a halt a few dozen paces away, its keel just a man's height from the ground. A rope ladder was thrown over the side.
"Ahoy!" a voice called out. Jinzan had grown so weary of that voice that he had hoped never to hear it again. "I have him and we're coming down." Good as his word, Tanner was over the ship's railing a moment later and climbing down the rope ladder. As soon as he was on the ground, Anzik followed.
Jinzan felt a surge of relief spread through him at the sight of his son who had been gone nearly a season. There was a smile within him but putting a hand to his face told him that his lips were not complying. Still feeling along with his fingertips, he forced his expression to match his mood.
Anzik looked more attentive than when Jinzan had last seen him. He turned his head to look at the world around him as he set foot on the sand. He was dressed in Kadrin clothing, which was both dark and gaudy. Getting him some more appropriate attire would be among the first things to do when they returned to Lon Mai.
"Father," Anzik called out and began running over the rocky ground to meet him. Jinzan expected to see him stumble at any moment, given the difficult footing, but the boy managed without incident. Rather than embrace him, which would have been both awkward and out of character, Anzik pulled up short at a respectable distance. "Father, you don't look well."
"I am fine," he told Anzik. I wish I believed that myself. "Thank you for bringing the Staff of Gehlen back to me. I am sorry it took me so long to bring you home."
"You didn't bring me here. Tanner did," Anzik argued.
"Ah, but I arranged for him to do so," Jinzan said. He noticed Anzik's gaze wandering to the staff he held. Jinzan's hand tightened around it.
"Well, I've done my part," Tanner called out as he ambled along the beach toward the Fehrs. Jinzan had no expectation that Tanner would trip on a rock and split his skull, but he found himself hoping that the annoying swordsman would. "Any chance of you giving up that staff so we can call off the whole war? Maybe kill a demon for you?"
Jinzan let it appear as if he were giving the matter some thought. He held the staff aloft and turned it parallel to the ground, presenting it to Tanner. The Kadrin soldier looked skeptical but approached anyway. As Tanner reached out for the Staff of Gehlen, Jinzan grabbed him with aether, holding him fast.
"No. I think not," Jinzan replied. He looked into the confused, frustrated eyes of his son's deliverer. "But neither do I plan to kill you." Jinzan's gaze wandered over to the Kadrin airship. It was hovering in the breeze, tugging against the line of the anchor that lay in the sand. Jinzan left Tanner immobile and walked toward it.
"Father, do you want me to show you the airship?" Anzik asked. The boy had trailed after him like a puppy. It was one of the few conversations he had ever initiated with Jinzan. "It's wonderful. I think you would like it. It's just like a boat, but it flies."
Jinzan studied the sails as he drew closer. The arrangement was a monstrosity by seafaring standards but he could see some logic to it for sailing the skies. They rid themselves of a mast because they draft nothing but clouds. That crossways spar must be for steering ... rudder is probably too small to matter in the air. Looks cobbled, but effective. It will do.
The crew of the Kadrin airship scrambled. He heard shouted orders and gathered that they were well prepared to abandon Tanner to his fate rather than attempt a rescue. Pragmatic. Same old Kadrins. Jinzan watched them raising the sails and began plucking the Sources from the sailors one by one, slowing and eventually halting efforts to get the airship skyborne once more.
Jinzan picked himself up with a levitation spell—always a clumsy endeavor, trying to keep his own Source from rebelling against the aether's indelicate handling of it. He turned to pick up Tanner as well, towing him through the air to bring him onto the deck. Anzik took his own way, following back up the rope ladder.
A sorceress confronted him. "What do you—"
Jinzan ripped the Source out of her as well, not even bothering with pleasantries. He took the entire crew and emptied out their living Sources, refilling them with aether he controlled. Of all who had arrived on the Kadrin airship, only Tanner and Anzik were spared.
"Father, the staff lets you do that, too?" Anzik asked.
"No, the staff merely makes it easier. The control is mine; the staff, but a tool."
"Oh," Anzik said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I guess we will have to figure out how to fly the ship ourselves. I didn't pay a lot of attention to how it worked, but we need to pull those ropes over there to lift the sails, then use magic to make the wind blow in the direction we want—it isn't already, I don't know where we're going—then use that wheel over there to turn the other sail—oh, and we need to pull those other ropes to raise that one first—and then we can use that to turn the ship, so we can go in the direction we want. The runes there, there, and there," Anzik pointed, "do things like raise the ship and lower it. They might do some other things too, but I wasn't really paying attention. Sorry." Anzik shrunk back after his apology, as if expecting reprimand.
Jinzan smiled then and did not need to feel his face to know it. "Thank you, Anzik. That was what I suspected. Have no worry though, we do not have to fly it ourselves."
Jinzan worked his aether into muscles and bones, reigniting dead Sources in otherwise intact bodies. He cut the aetherial tethers loose as he reconnected the minds of his new slaves. They began rising from the deck as he completed each one.
"Ooooh!"Anzik marveled. "Let me try one!" Before Jinzan could think to stop him, Anzik Fehr rushed belowdeck, already drawing aether. There were bodies below as well, but Jinzan had yet to reanimate them. Jinzan's instincts told him to go after the boy, but after a single step he stopped himself. The boy is a natural. He remembered how Anzik had reanimated his own pet dog when the beast had died.
Muffled grunts drew Jinzan's attentio
n back to Tanner, who was lying on the deck clamped in Jinzan's spell. Jinzan released the swordsman and he gasped for breath, able to expand his lungs fully once more. Jinzan watched him for a moment and considered confiscating the Kadrin's sword but decided not to. Harmless enough.
"I suppose you know better than to try to escape or do me any harm," Jinzan said. Tanner pushed himself to hands and knees.
"Rotting bastard, I almost suffocated," Tanner managed between gasps. "What kind of deal is this?"
"The kind where you have robbed me of one hostage only to provide me another. Denrik may have been at risk if you had tried to slay him, but I am no Denrik Zayne. You will be perfectly safe so long as you work to bring my son's twin to me. However, I cannot risk returning you to Kadrin. Let Kyrus wonder where you have disappeared to. I will not risk him discovering where I have been all this time," Jinzan said.
"You puke-swilling dog, you are as bad as the rest of them. Denrik at least had a little decency. Give a fella too much magic, and it happens to all of you," Tanner said. He spat on the deck.
"I can just have someone clean that up," Jinzan said. Without a word, a dead sailor walked over and pulled a cloth from his belt. The dead man bent to wipe Tanner's spit from the deck without complaint and without his attention wandering from the task to glance at Tanner.
"Nice to know your side keeps up tradition," Tanner joked. Jinzan knew him well enough to hear how afraid he was of the dead sailor's proximity. "Loramar would be proud."
"Ah, Mr. Tanner, you show yourself to be a man of learning at last," Jinzan said. "I had despaired of ever having a proper conversation with you. You at least learned your battles."
"Yeah," Tanner said. He pushed himself away from the cleaning corpse before climbing to his feet. "But you must know how that turned out for Loramar. I mean, Rashan Solaran was as famous for the Necromancer Wars as anything, and he won all three of them."