by Brian Farrey
We stepped inside and I launched into the story of everything that had happened at the Creche. Ma and Da listened closely to every detail, nodding at each revelation. They didn’t seem the least bit surprised to learn that the Palatinate was planning to overthrow the High Laird. When I finished, they considered carefully.
“On the one hand,” Da said, “a ship leaves in half an hour. We could all be on it and safely away before any of this nastiness occurs.”
“On the other hand,” Ma said, a mischievous smile twisting her lips, “we could stop the Palatinate and put the High Laird in our debt for the rest of our lives.”
It was hard to say which idea appealed more. The Grimjinx instinct for self-preservation was a powerful force, and leaving was certainly the easiest option.
“It’s a tough decision,” I said. “Running is a noble Grimjinx tradition. But I’ve found that using cleverness to get out of impossible scrapes can be just as fulfilling.”
Aubrin cast the deciding vote. “If the Palatinate takes over,” she said quietly, “everyone will suffer. Thousands will die. I’ve seen it. But it doesn’t have to happen that way. If we end this here and now . . .” She paused, casting a small glance in my direction. “We can save lives.”
It was all Ma and Da needed to hear.
“So, are we going to catch that ship before the onslaught begins?” Callie asked teasingly.
“And miss the chance to put ‘saved the Five Provinces’ in the family album?” Ma asked. “Never.”
Da put his arm around Ma’s waist and pulled her close. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.
Ma tsked. “Need I remind you what Hallimor Grimjinx always said?”
Aubrin grinned. “‘Who steals first, steals best.’”
“Exactly!” Da said. “We’ve got the seers. Now let’s get those relics.”
We left the inn and wove our way through the busy streets. Da stopped to pull a flyer from a nearby wall. We gathered around as Da held up the schedule of today’s events.
“Pity, we missed the hammer throw,” Ma said. “I bet Luda would have scored top marks there. Let’s see. . . . The High Laird’s speech is in ten minutes. Then the Veiled Sisterhood of All Things Eternal will do a celebratory dance. Oh, that could go on forever. . . . Then the High Laird will present the relics to Nalia.” She looked at Da and smiled.
Da tapped the schedule. “It’s like they’ve gone out of their way to make it easy.”
“Easy?” Callie asked. She pointed down the road to the stage. Spectators lined the lip of the tall wooden platform, shoulder to shoulder and impossible to bypass. All along the edge of the stage, Provincial Guards and Sentinels stood watch. “How will that be easy?”
But Ma’s attention was on a dress shop across the way. A sign hung in the window reading CLOSED FOR THE JUBILEE. “Tell me, Callie, didn’t you train in dance with the widow Bellatin . . . ?”
I’ve always been proud of Ma. As a thief at the top of her game, she’d assisted in the ransacking of the par-Dwarf fire mausoleums. Her forgeries of Satyran money nearly bankrupted the island of Rexin. But even though I’d have given anything for her skills, there was no way I would have traded places with her inside the dress shop.
“Just close your eyes, Luda,” Ma said in a soothing voice. “And take a deep breath . . . now!”
Luda gripped a pillar, squeezed her eyes shut, and inhaled. Behind her, Ma yanked on the strings of Luda’s new corset. The mighty Satyran warrior’s eyes bulged as her midsection shrank. Together, Ma and I struggled to tie the strings. When it was all done, we stepped back and Ma beamed.
“There!” she cried. “Now aren’t you . . . a sight.”
Her armor in a nearby heap, Luda was wrapped from horn to hoof in great swaths of sheer orange gossamer. The dress shop didn’t have anything large enough to fit a towering Satyran, so Ma had improvised and wrapped bolt after bolt of fabric around Luda like an Aviard mummy.
“This will not do!” Luda said. “I cannot protect you if I am dainty!”
“You don’t need to protect anyone,” Ma reminded her. “You just have to help us get to the relics.”
“Hey, Luda!” I twirled to show off my flowing blue gown. I pulled a matching piece of gossamer across my face. “Think I make a great Veiled Sister?”
“Indeed,” Luda said.
The door to the shop opened. Callie, Da, and Aubrin entered, already wearing the dresses and veils Ma had gotten them. Da passed me two of the pouches from my belt.
“You really know your sleeping draughts, son,” Da said as I reattached the pouches to my belt.
Aubrin nodded. “I slipped the herbs into their tea just like you told me. The Sisterhood will be asleep for hours.”
“I found the relics,” Callie said. “At the back of the stage, there’s a round dais with a box on top. There are two Provincial Guards in front of the box.”
She glanced at me nervously. Ma, Da, and Luda were crucial to our plan. They were big enough to mask the view to the relics box. Ma and Da weren’t about to let Aubrin out of their sight, so she was staying close to them. And Callie’s dancing ability was the reason we had a diversion at all. That left me responsible for nicking the relics. Callie had a right to be nervous, given my . . . history.
“Have a little faith,” I said, trying to sound far more confident than I felt. If it all worked out, we could be halfway to the city limits by the time anyone realized the relics were gone. And then we’d force the High Laird to listen to us. We’d show him what was going on at the Creche. And we’d be heroes.
Again.
Really, if we didn’t stop doing this sort of thing, it was going to ruin our reputation as scoundrels.
A brassy fanfare rent the air outside. We peeked out from the shop’s window and watched as the Lordcourt, led by Nalia, sauntered onto the stage and took their seats. A feeble mage who walked with the assistance of a staff took a seat behind the Lordcourt. His left arm hung in a sling; a large white bandage clung to his shoulder.
Xerrus. That made things trickier.
With the crowd’s attention on the stage, we exited the shop just as Chancellor Karadin strode down the middle of the platform, waving to the crowd.
“Good citizens of Vesta,” the Chancellor called out. “Where once there was chaos, now there is order. Where once there was sadness, now there is joy. All that we are, we owe to the Soranna family. It is thanks to their wisdom and guidance that we are here today. We are Five Provinces but we are one in spirit.”
The crowd didn’t seem impressed. I couldn’t blame them. Karadin’s treacle-like admiration was a mite much.
“Today, we celebrate five hundred years of rule under the House of Soranna. Good people, I present your sovereign, the High Laird Gadris Soranna!”
As the High Laird took the stage, the applause was polite at best. I even heard a few boos. But when members of the Provincial Guard moved to the edge of the stage, the crowd offered respectful, if grudging, quiet. Unhappy as they were with the High Laird, people still feared him. And given how erratic his behavior had been recently, no one was willing to protest too much and end up in Umbramore Tower.
“My people,” the High Laird said, “when my ancestor Mannis Soranna formed the Five Provinces, he sought to unify a land divided. But he did not do it alone. Wise as he was, he knew he would need even wiser counsel to advise him. To this end, he consulted the most sagacious mages he knew and they formed the Palatinate. This Jubilee, we honor not only my family’s legacy of benevolence but also the service of the Palatinate, which has governed the use of magic with fairness and intelligence. Without these mages . . .”
The High Laird droned on and on, singing Nalia’s praises to the point where I thought I might actually be sick. The head of the Lordcourt did her best to accept the praise with the appearance of modesty, but her eyes rarely strayed from the relics box.
Ma led us quietly toward the tent where t
he Sisterhood slumbered. We crept around the side, waiting to be summoned. Subdued applause told us the High Laird had finished. The Chancellor nodded in our direction.
“That’s our cue,” Da whispered.
The six of us took the stage, faces veiled. Thousands of eyes watched from the sea of people before us. Callie moved to the center. “Just follow me,” she said quietly.
The band launched into a lively reel with tin flutes piping and oxinas strumming at a breakneck pace. Callie’s jaw dropped and I realized: the widow had trained her to dance like a lady. Ladies danced slowly. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this.
But if it fazed her, it was only for a second. With a joyous whoop, Callie leaped straight up, arms out and legs spread. The rest of us followed a split second later, a far less graceful echo.
As the music took off, Callie twirled and hopped around the stage, spinning and bending in a completely made-up dance. But she sold it.
Aubrin took after Callie. She stood on her tiptoes and frolicked around, mirroring Callie to perfection. I wish I could say the same for Ma and Da. At first, they did their best to imitate Callie. But when she proved far more flexible, they gave up and just started to flail about like they were going through the spasm stage of blackbone fever.
Luda surprised us all. She remained in the dead center, her arms slicing the air with graceful precision. Every so often, she would jump, her legs shooting out in magnificent arcs. Soon all eyes were on her as she whirled about like she had a grudge against the emptiness around her.
I stayed near the back, gyrating my hips and swishing my arms side to side as I inched closer to the relics box. The guards were too busy watching Luda, who’d scooped up Aubrin and starting twirling her, one-handed, high in the air. Casually, I sneaked behind them to the back of the box.
Odd as we looked, the crowd seemed to appreciate us. The wilder the dance got, the more they whistled and tossed coins on the stage. I kept one eye on the Lordcourt, who’d begun muttering to one another. They were anxious to get their hands on the relics. I had to be quick.
I pulled out my picks. Please, I thought to any deity willing to listen, let me do this just this once. I swear I’ll never try to pick another lock again.
Just then, the music stopped. The crowd burst into applause as my family froze in place. I could see Da looking around for me. When he spotted me near the box, I wiggled my thumb to tell him I needed more time. He threw back his head and called out in a high-pitched voice, “One more time!”
The band immediately started playing again and my family launched into their demented jig. When Nalia stood as if to call an end to the festivities, Da sashayed over, hooked his arm in hers, and spun the mage around vigorously. The crowd went naff-nut, cheering Nalia on.
With everyone distracted again, I inserted my picks into the lock. I felt the tumblers inside shift. Zoc. Another Moxnar. I jammed my picks in deep, hoping to catch the lock off guard.
“What are you doing?”
The tinny voice reverberated as the barrel of the lock moved like a pair of lips.
Oh, zoc. A Class 4 Moxnar. The kind that could speak.
“Guards!” The lock shouted to be heard over the music and rhythmic stomping. “Thief! Thief!”
As the box’s guards stirred, I ducked and scurried on all fours, hoping they wouldn’t see me.
“Hey!” one of the guards shouted. “What are you—?”
I pretended that I’d been dancing all along. I sprang up, bounced around, threw my hands in the air . . .
. . . and tripped on my own two feet.
Sprawling forward, I crashed into Aubrin. We went down together. As I reached out to break our fall, my fingers snagged Aubrin’s veil, yanking it from her face.
“The augur!”
Xerrus sprang up from his seat behind the Lordcourt, pointing at Aubrin. On hands and knees, Aubrin and I backed away. I eyed the box, trying to decide if I could make it to the relics. A trio of Sentinels moved forward, not even sparing the box a glance. Nalia smiled.
Behind me, Ma gasped. Then Da groaned. And one by one, we all realized the same thing. The seers were important to the Palatinate. But not nearly as important as the most powerful seer. The augur.
My sister.
With the relics nearby and Aubrin at their feet, we’d accidentally delivered everything the Palatinate needed to rule the Five Provinces.
16
The Fall of the House of Soranna
“The foolish thief looks to tomorrow. The wise rogue uses tonight.”
—Ona Grimjinx, master thief of Korrin Province
The High Laird rose from his chair. “What is going on here?”
I yanked off my veil. “Your Highness, Nalia and the Lordcourt want to depose you. If you give them the relics—”
“This little game has been fun,” Nalia said, her monocle glistening in the sun. “But it’s time we brought it to a close.”
With a flick of her wrist, she produced her spellsphere and sent a bolt of energy toward the dais. The guards dove for safety as the top of the box exploded, revealing a pair of gauntlets, a scepter, an orb, and a coronet.
Nalia led the Lordcourt to the relics. She pulled the gauntlets over her long fingers. Hissing in the magical tongue, she lifted her arms to the sky. Shafts of green light shot from her fingertips. Screams rang out from the crowd.
“Hear me!”
Nalia’s voice shook in my chest and seemed to come from everyone at once: down the road, around the corner, right behind me.
“Benevolence? Wisdom? The Soranna family claims to have served the Five Provinces. That may have been true in the past. But this High Laird serves only himself.”
Nalia pointed to the High Laird, who looked bewildered by the sudden betrayal. I almost felt sorry for him.
“The time has come for a new law of the land. The Palatinate will guide you now. Under magical rule, there will be new order.”
The crowd murmured. Some people seemed to think this was an entertainment, like the dance. Others looked unsure, as if trying to decide which leader they wanted to follow.
“Gadris Soranna,” Nalia said, “I charge you with treason against the people of the Five Provinces. Guards, arrest him. And take that child”—she pointed to Aubrin—“into custody.”
The Provincial Guards on the stage drew their weapons. My family moved to surround Aubrin, putting themselves between her and the guards. But instead of arresting the High Laird or even glancing at Aubrin, the guards advanced on Nalia and the Lordcourt.
Nalia’s lips curled. “You serve a new sovereign now. Stand down and obey me.”
When the Provincial Guard refused to back away, all the members of the Lordcourt took out their spellspheres and spoke as one. The air over Vesta rippled as dozens of quickjump rings materialized overhead. Everything grew still. Then, like the opening of a floodgate, hundreds of monsters began pouring through. Some flew on leathery wings. Others dropped right onto the crowd, screeching as they descended. Each wore a golden control medallion.
A host of bloodreavers fell upon the guards closest to the Lordcourt, driving them back. Spindly creatures with four arms and two sets of jaws, the bloodreavers clawed and bit as they attacked. The soldiers closed ranks around the High Laird. While a wall of guards fought off the bloodreavers, the Chancellor and the High Laird’s confidants rushed the monarch away down the back of the stage.
When Nalia saw this, she slashed the air with her gauntlets. A wave of power knocked the guards off their feet.
“Find him!” Nalia shouted at the nearest Sentinels. “The High Laird cannot be allowed to escape.”
But the Provincial Guards weren’t done. They got up and took arms against the Sentinels, doing everything they could to buy the High Laird more time. And maybe it was seeing that—the unwavering support of the Provincial Guard—that turned the crowd against the Palatinate.
It also hadn’t helped that the Lordcourt had just summoned a legion of
monsters.
A wave of patriotism took over the crowd. Whatever concerns they’d had about the High Laird, everyone apparently had even more concerns about putting the mages in charge. People rushed the stage, pitching vegetables, food on sticks, and anything else they could find at the Lordcourt.
That’s when it occurred to me. Despite all the High Laird had done, people still supported the House of Soranna. If he was free, the Provinces would never be loyal to the Palatinate.
And the same was true of the Dowager. I had no doubt that a mix of Sentinels and monsters was on its way to Vengekeep to apprehend her. I couldn’t let that happen.
By now, the streets were in chaos. The Palatinate monsters that weren’t attacking Provincial Guards were corralling the rowdy glut of spectators. The citizens of Vesta scattered, trying to get as far from the monsters as possible. With the Lordcourt distracted, my family joined hands and hid in the river of people trying to escape.
“We should head to the docks,” Ma said. “Quickly, before the ships realize there’s trouble and set sail.”
“But, Ma,” I said, “we can’t leave the Dowager. We have to get to Vengekeep.”
Da nodded at Aubrin. “Right now, your sister is a bigger threat to Nalia. We’ll get her hidden first, then go find the Dowager. She’s a smart woman. She’ll know to hide.”
Luda led the way, clearing a path as we headed west toward the docks. Callie and I flanked Aubrin, squeezing her between us. Ma and Da brought up the rear, casting nervous looks over their shoulders to be sure the Sentinels weren’t following us.
Suddenly, a vine of magical light sprang up from the ground, wrapping itself around Ma and pulling her arms tight to her sides. Nalia stormed toward us, her spellsphere crackling in the palm of her gauntlet.
When Ma cried out, Luda stopped. A twinkle lit up Nalia’s monocle and before Luda could attack, another magical rope appeared and ensnared the Satyran.
Callie hugged Aubrin close as Da and I blocked Nalia’s path. Nalia laughed.
“You’re coming with me, augur,” Nalia said sweetly.