Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  "Presumed, at least. Her family was from there, and she hated travel, so ..." Kyrus let his words trail off, not wanting to further upset his grandfather.

  "I see. Poor thing ... never was up to the rigors of motherhood. Nearly did her in ... almost wish it had." Axterion shook his head. "Someone ought to find a way to get word to the boy. He's got to know he's an orphan now."

  You were the one who told me he went to stay with her, grandfather. Do you really not remember, or are you just choosing not to?

  "I can make sure someone lets him know," Kyrus agreed.

  * * * * * * * *

  "Brannis! Brannis, I have it," Rashan called out as he entered the Map Room. Kyrus sat on the floor with a stack of reports, piecing together updates to the map. At present he was working on airship reports of Megrenn resistance.

  "Have what?"

  "I think I know a way to track down the—one moment, when did you stop carrying a sword?" Rashan stopped mid-answer and shifted course.

  "I stopped by the estate this morning after our meeting. I felt I ought to tell Axterion myself. I left the sword there, in my old room. I got my dueling instructor killed along with losing the airship, and I could curl it up like a watch spring with hardly a thought. It seemed like a silly pretension I was keeping up. I'm not even grand marshal anymore."

  "Not a turn of phrase you hear much around here. Not too many folk even know what a pocket watch is. In any event, I have the solution to track down Jinzan Fehr and our missing airship. Send the Starlit Marauder after it," Rashan said.

  Kyrus's face went blank. He knew because everything inside him went blank, and it must have shown through to the face. Kyrus stood.

  "No."

  Rashan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "It is not yours to command. I run the army. That ship is mine."

  "NO."

  "I know you can get word to Juliana. I know how easy it is. She is probably lying in your arms right now. Take just a moment's respite from this world, wake her, and tell her to hunt that ship down for us," Rashan said.

  We are sleeping in a gully a mile off the nearest road. We just got to sleep not long ago, and we will be up again before dawn hits Khesh. I would sooner wake a sleeping bear.

  "Fine," Kyrus replied. He glared down at the demon for a moment before closing his eyes.

  He was still aware of the tapping of an impatient demon's foot as he awoke in Brannis's body. Soria was indeed curled up in his arms. Both of them were still in their armor. She was tucked beside him, using a spare change of clothes as a pillow between her head and the bare metal of his armor.

  In his head, Brannis played out the conversation, imagining how it would go. In Veydrus, Kyrus took what he hoped looked like an involuntary step back, raising his hands defensively. Brannis imagined the haranguing she would give him, his retort, her vented opinions about the warlock, his caution not to wake Rakashi, her questioning why it needed to be her, his explanation of Rashan's plan, and finally her relenting.

  Through all of it, Soria remained snoring softly, the gentle nighttime breezes blowing strands of her hair across his face.

  "She agreed, but you owe me for this," Kyrus said as he blinked away Brannis's vision.

  "She should be in little enough danger. That ship she commands is far faster," Rashan assured him.

  "And who is going to protect Brannis from her twin?" Kyrus asked.

  Rashan laughed as he left Kyrus to his work.

  * * * * * * * *

  The shushing of the underbrush against their clothes was the only sound for a long while as they picked their way down a path that was little more than a game trail. It drowned out the clatter of a leather scabbard against a dangling pack. It drowned out the sounds of soft boots on dirt, rock and root. It tried to drown out the sounds of complaints, but there it fell short.

  "I like a day in the woods much as the next fella, I suppose, but this is a bit much, don't ya think?" Tanner asked. He stopped a moment to mop his brow with a sleeve.

  "Ah, listen a moment," Stalyart replied. Tanner stopped talking, and Stalyart put a hand to his ear. The wind rustled the leaves, but as it abated, another sound could be heard. The ocean was close.

  "It is not far now. We may be rid of these flowering, sticky smells, and have the Aliani within our noses again. I would sleep in the crow's nest tonight, I think. My stomach and legs cannot stand much more of this stubbornly still ground," said Stalyart.

  "Ain't one for poems, but you get me off Ghelk and back someplace they won't kill me on sight, I'll be plenty happy," Tanner agreed.

  The tree line broke not much farther along, revealing a rocky stretch of shoreline with tall cliffs high enough to hide a ship. A shallow, protected cove, one of hundreds along the ragged Ghelkan coastline, was an ideal spot to stow a ship if you wanted nothing to do with local ports.

  "You sail that thing?" Tanner scoffed. He pointed down to the two-masted vessel anchored in the cove. "I'd figured a nautical guy like you would have scribbled up plans for a proper frigate, or a schooner. But this?" Tanner gestured to the ship, and shrugged. Stalyart kept walking toward the shore, not slowing his pace.

  "We are not all in the business of fighting at sea. I am a smuggler here, not a pirate. I gain nothing from having a ship I cannot anchor in tiny places and slip unnoticed among other ships. I think you will like it better than the ships in the other world," Stalyart said. "I even invented Crackle here." He turned to look over his shoulder, and fixed Tanner with a smile.

  "Let's just get out of this dying kingdom."

  "Hah, you have no idea the truth of your words."

  Tanner found a cordial welcome aboard the Silent Echo; there was merriment in the wake of the captain's return. He was pleased to discover that most of the crew understood at least a little Kadrin, and bore no ill will toward him. They were a mongrel lot, more unusual a finding in Veydrus than in the metropolitan seas of Tellurak.

  An hour out to sea, Tanner realized that a tension within him had unwound itself. With the hot sun above, the cool sea breezes all around, and no land in sight, he felt like he could have been anywhere. There was no Kadrin Empire, no menacing sorcerers, and no twinborn plots buffeting him about.

  "That hunted look stayed on the shore, I think," Stalyart said, snapping Tanner from his musings. Tanner shrugged. "I do not know the sort of trouble you may find back in Kadrin, should you return. They exist in a state of fear and distrust of their own making."

  "Heads'll cool," Tanner replied. "It'll be fine, eventually. They can always use a good blade."

  "With sorcerers such as Rashan Solaran and Mr. Hinterdale? Your value is limited, I think. With me, you could make your fortune. I would use your blade seldom, but to good effect."

  "I get the impression you are trying to hire me," said Tanner, giving Stalyart an appraising look. Stalyart clapped him on the shoulder.

  "Your wit is sharp as your blade." Stalyart laughed.

  * * * * * * * *

  "Why me, of all people?" Celia whined. She stood in the goblin lands, just north of Sk'Klt on Kyrus's map. Smoke from the goblin forges and workshops rose up around her ankles.

  "You are dressing like one of the Inner Circle," Kyrus argued, sweeping a hand up and down at her gold and red-trimmed black gown, so new it practically smelled of tailors' chalk. "Maybe you should take on some level of responsibility. Planning a royal wedding is a great honor."

  "You just know that you can be rid of me a while, is that it?" Celia replied, her voice rising. "Ever since Iridan's death, you have been sniffing after that widow of his like she was in heat. It's unseemly."

  The map flickered as Kyrus's eyes bore into Celia. She took a step back, reacting to Kyrus's draw even before Kyrus realized he was gathering aether. Kyrus took a slow, even breath, and allowed the map to stabilize lest he rip it apart.

  The doors to the Map Room slammed shut. Celia flinched.

  "Now Brannis, darling, you can understand a bit of jealously now, can't you? Y
ou keep evading talk about a betrothal, and ... " Celia let the thought hang unfinished. Kyrus's expression had not changed.

  "We are going to lay a few cards on the table, Abbiley," Kyrus said. He kept his voice as even as he could, but even he heard a touch of Rashan in it.

  "Yes, Kyrus?" Celia asked. "What are we to discuss?"

  "Did you mean what you said to me last night, at the Harwick Estate? That you would leave Tomas, and run away with me?" Kyrus asked.

  "Of course," Celia answered, without hesitation. "You know I love—"

  "Liar!"

  "Kyrus, I meant that—"

  "Not another word until I finish!" Kyrus shouted. "You are going to take the job to plan a wedding of gluttonous proportion for our rutting hog of an emperor. You are going to do it because I told you to. It is going to take you beyond my sight, keeping you busy from pre-dawn until after dusk, handling a mind-twisting array of pointless, trivial, ornamental tasks.

  "You are going to do it because I know. I know how Rashan has had you manipulating me," Kyrus said. He held up a warning hand when Celia seemed about to object. "I know that you and Caladris pillaged the life of Abbiley for any secret you could get to fool me. I have it by Caladris's own word; and liar though he is, he had better sense than to toy with me on this subject once his hand was caught in the donation box.

  "I have tolerated your advances, at first because I believed you, then to cover the charade once I found how it could benefit me. Rashan has used you as a shield to ensure my behavior, keeping you just close enough to caution me against reckless magic. That charade is not over. I will continue brushing aside your little advances until it becomes seemly that I propose to my best friend's widow. In the meantime, think on how much protection Rashan can offer you, should you decide to tell him that this little arrangement is a farce. I assure you, he is in no rush to stand between you and my temper."

  Celia stood, the blood drained from her face, staring. Kyrus watched, wondering with an idle curiosity how long it would be before she dared blink.

  "You are feeling a bit overwhelmed by the responsibility you have been handed. Perfectly understandable. Best thing is to just immerse yourself in the task, and seek help as needed—from someone other than the warlock and myself. We are both of a mind that this is a travesty, and he wants as little to do with it as I.

  "Go!" The door swung open, startling Celia anew. Kyrus thrust a finger toward the corridor. Celia did not need to be told twice. She scurried off as quickly as decorum would allow a sorceress to move in a formal gown.

  If Celia was going to burst into tears, she kept herself in check until out of Kyrus's hearing.

  * * * * * * * *

  "Alright, your Source might have made that a bit murky to watch, but that was possibly the best thing I have ever witnessed," Soria said after she removed her hands from the sides of Brannis's head. "The hour it took to get the spell right has been paid back with bankers' rates."

  Rakashi watched with idle amusement as he partook in a pre-dawn meal of bread and jerky. "So does this mean we are agreeing?"

  "Oh yes. I pay off my debts. This one is a bargain, I think," Soria answered. "Toss me some of that jerky, I'm starving." She took a strip when Brannis offered it, and rummaged in their packs for bread.

  It was not yet dawn in the little gully in Khesh. Soria's foul mood upon waking early had disappeared before the morning fog had a chance to burn off.

  "Remember," Brannis said, "just search Podawei from the air. If you can't find it from the air, just leave it be. While you're on the way, take care to avoid Kadrin airships. I don't want you crossing paths with the one Zayne has stolen."

  "Not a chance of that. The Marauder is too fast for those sailing airships. Juliana's still awake. We can get going right away."

  "What are we to do if the spirits do dwell within Podawei?" Rakashi asked. "The kalanoi are not known for welcoming outsiders, if they are more than legend."

  "The who?" Brannis asked.

  "Their own name for themselves, or the best pronunciation I know for it. It is a sign of your parochialism that you call species by your own simplified names for them: daruu, kalanoi, dracos, g'bln, guumaa; these are merely stone folk, forest spirit, dragon, goblin, and ogre to you. I grant you that the goblin and dragon names are close, but you Kadrins seem unconcerned with what these folk call themeslves."

  Brannis shrugged. "I knew the daruu, but I can't exactly carry on a conversation about them without calling them stone folk. No one else would know who I was talking about. Anyway, if you run into the kalanoi, just take note of their location. I'll make a point to visit them when I can have time away from the warlock's notice."

  "Shhr thng," Soria replied with nod, her mouth full of bread.

  * * * * * * * *

  In another forest, in another world, a campfire hid beneath a tarp from overhead observers. Smoke billowed out and around the edges, but diffused enough in the leafy canopy that the refugees worried little about cooking their meal.

  Dice rattled in a loose fist as a knot of men gambled away the early night hours. Spears and swords were jabbed into the soft forest floor behind them, ready in case of ambush, but it was a precaution grown stale as the season wore on and Kadrin showed no sign of locating them.

  "You should join us, Commander," one of the men shouted from the circle of gamblers. "They ain't nobody to impress out here but us lot."

  The youngest of the company, Commander Stotaala Bal-Kaynnyn turned from the task of brushing out her stripe-cat's fur. "Perhaps another night." It was the same response she gave each time they asked. The gamblers returned to their game and their merriment.

  A short ways away, some fifty paces out into the gloom of Kelvie Forest, a pair of sentries sat, watching the darkness for invading crickets and squirrels with insomnia. They swatted mosquitoes and itched where they had been bitten. They drank water, because that was all to be had to drink. They groused, because fate kept playing them the same tune, in different keys.

  "You know 'bout that aether stuff?" Tod asked. He reclined against a tree with his spear across his legs.

  "'Course, 'cept if you mean anything useful," Jodoul replied. He worked at his teeth with a fingernail, trying to dislodge a bit of his dinner.

  "Well, I'm wonderin' if maybe we got it writ on us someplace that we's sentries," Tod continued. "Cuz I ain't seen it writ noplace on you, and I'm guessin' you ain't seen it writ noplace on me." Tod paused until Jodoul nodded his agreement. "But if you's askin' anyone in charge o' puttin' a sentry out in the bleeding woods after dark, they pick us, sure as sunrise."

  "Yup," Jodoul agreed.

  "There's gotta be somethin' on us writ that everyone but us can see."

  "It's quiet, at least, and the commander ain't bad to look at," Jodoul said, preferring to look at the brighter side of their lot. He looked up through a break in the trees to watch the moon. He had picked his spot just because of the view it offered.

  "What's that?" Jodoul scrambled to his feet. "Somethin' just passed front o' the moon. Weren't no cloud, neither." He crouched low, and scurried back to the main camp site, Tod following in his trail.

  "Kill the fire. Airship," Jodoul was caught between a shout and a whisper, urgency and secrecy warring in his throat.

  The dice were forgotten, coins lay piled on the forest floor. All hands went for weapons, even before someone thought to kick dirt on the fire. Commander Stotaala took up her spear, and leapt atop her stripe-cat's back. She showed remarkable flexibility as she bent to secure the straps about her ankles and thighs that would keep her in the saddle in battle. The riders of the other two stripe-cats did likewise.

  Properly armed, they stood motionless, waiting. A rustle of chain here, a cough there, the husky breathing of the massive stripe-cat, nothing that should have been heard from above the trees. No light, no sound, no foreknowledge of their presence gave them away. The only sense that they had to fear was the one that the Kadrins brought to bear against them: ae
ther-vision.

  They heard the crush of branches as the ship wedged itself with ill grace down between the trees. Spears were lowered in a classic defensive posture, off somewhere in the direction of the sound.

  "Quickly, this is our only chance. Hit them before they get settled on the ground. I will take their sorcerer myself. Charge!" Commander Stotaala did not wait to see if her men followed. They did. Desperate, frightened men rushed headlong into the darkness behind the stripe-cat as it outpaced anything a running human could hope to match.

  All but two. Tod and Jodoul joined the initial rush, but they had worked out a system for such an eventuality. They lagged the pack, and fell off the pace. They waited until none looked ready to turn back, and found nice, thick trees to hide behind.

  * * * * * * * *

  Kadrin soldiers clambered over the ship's railings and down the rope ladders to the ground. Spears were tossed down to the first men waiting, who were to hold the disembarking area until all could get to the ground.

  A bounding blur streaked toward them, a shadow cloaked in leaf-shrouded darkness, growling as it came. A thicket of spears attempted to present itself in opposition to the beast, but only managed to rally a clearing's worth of opposing spears to the cause. The stripe-cat closed the distance with ferocious speed and bounded into the midst of the unprepared Kadrin soldiers.

  "Whoops! Just got it in time," a high-pitched voice called from the ship's deck. The stripe-cat hung, feet scrambling for purchase, just out of spear's reach. Neither the rider nor the ship's contingent could reach one another.

  "Who are you? Let me down! We will never surrender!" the rider shouted. She squirmed frantically in her saddle.

  "I am Warlock Danilaesis Solaran of the Kadrin Empire, bloody left hand of Emperor ... the emperor," Danil replied, his childish voice carrying clear over the sounds of the approaching Megrenn forces. "I guess since you don't want to surrender, we don't have much to talk about."

  Lightning twisted and crackled forth from Danil's outstretched hand. Cat and rider both screamed in unison, but only briefly. Smoke rose from the smoldering bodies before Danilaesis flung them clear of his men. A cheer went up as the young, self-appointed warlock stepped over the railing, and jumped to the ground. In the hand that had not spat lightning, he carried a bared blade as long as he was tall, with room to spare; it gleamed black in the moonlight.