Rod of the Heart

by Cebelius

  He glanced around at Shy and Laina, then back at the snake. "Leave it to us. If you get involved with the proxy, you can do anything but take the mask off."

  "I will do as you say, Master. But ..."

  The snake retreated, and Euryale wrapped her brazen forearms over his shoulders and spoke into his ear, her lips brushing the shell. "Your heart is too soft. You couldn't kill me and knew it, so I understand and admire you being clever enough to find another way. For me, compassion was the answer. It won't always be, and it is very likely to be too late when you finally realize what I already know. Dragons care nothing for the lesser races. Do remember I had several dragon siblings."

  She bit the shell of his ear almost hard enough to draw blood, then whispered, "I want your permission to kill her. I need it. Give it to me. Now, while it can still save your life."

  Terry's eyes flickered to Laina. The minotress caught the gesture and frowned, ever so slightly.

  "No." Terry spoke firmly. "We wait, and see if she's willing to work with us first. She's dangerous, but so are you. I'd rather have her on our side than dead. She won't kill me until she gets what she wants from me. She'll actually probably protect me even with no agreement, at least until then. Worst comes to worst, I trust you all to save my dumb ass."

  "If she tries to take you from us by force? Or is caught in malicious deception?" Euryale's object was obvious, and here at least, Terry felt comfortable giving her what she wanted.

  "If she does that, kill her any way you can."

  "Yesssss ... thank you, Master."

  She gave him a squeeze. Her wings folded around both of them as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and her snakes pecked at his hair, the sides of his head, his shoulders, everywhere they could reach. "It is not what I wanted, but it is enough. I will do as you say."

  Then she pushed away from him and stood, striding quickly toward the doors at the far end of the hall.

  "Where are you going?" Terry shouted after her, standing with more than half a mind to follow.

  "Relax, Master. I am simply going to see what I can find out about this dragon. I will not act against your interests."

  Shy held out a hand and he paused, glancing at her as she called after Euryale, "You should let me do that! Remember, there is a Locutor on the way to Florence, and zone agents will not protect him if they find him!"

  The gorgon froze. Then she returned to the group, though it was obvious she was sulking. "Fine. See if you can learn where her body is."

  Shy reached out to Euryale, pulled her into an embrace and kissed her fondly, then said, "I can do better. Dragons have lairs wherein they protect their hoards. They also are prone to keep servants. Astur has visited here before, someone may know where she lairs. Servants of hers might even be in town."

  Euryale returned Shy's kiss and tilted her head down a bit as she looked coyly up at the dryad. "It's obvious why Master loves you."

  He quirked a brow and smirked at that. Laina rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. I need to head out to the market and get my milk sold. Shouldn't take me long. Where will you be?"

  Terry thought about that, then shrugged and said, "Ross told me not to leave the keep, and that's probably good advice. I'll be in the training room."

  "Again?" Laina asked, incredulous.

  He nodded. "I'm ... not used to myself anymore. I need to figure out what I can do, and how long I can do it. If either of you two sees the Kolenko siblings, please let them know I'm stuck here for a while."

  Shy glanced at Laina and said, "You might want to stay here too, Laina. Ross predicted riots, and just yesterday a dragon showed up looking for him. It's a decent bet that people know you're connected to Tee, and someone might try something if you're exposed by yourself in the market."

  "Doesn't that apply to you as well?" Terry asked. "You were right there with her in the market the whole time I was gone."

  Shy shrugged, smirked, and struck the floor with the butt of her staff, sending arcs of electricity out over the stone. "I'm sure I'll manage. I'll go see the Kolenkos for you."

  "How am I going to sell my milk?" Laina said, folding her arms across her prodigious chest. "It's best fresh!"

  Terry jumped in. "Ross will buy it. With all that's going on, I'm sure he'll want some for the garrison and he'll be able to shift the rest."

  "Yeah, for a markup. I'm handing him my profits!"

  He rolled his eyes and looked at her pointedly. "Are you serious? That bothers you, Laina 'Moneybags' Lowe?"

  Laina's look turned defensive and she scowled at him.

  I have to remember that she grew up poor, just like I did. Now she's making money hand over fist and doesn't want to give it up.

  "Ross has done us more than a few favors," he said, trying to appeal to her sense of value. "It won't hurt us to do him one in turn. Riots mean people will get hurt, including members of the garrison sent to control things. Those riots are at least partially my fault, and I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd help reduce the damage."

  Her expression cleared and she nodded, then followed Shy toward the far doors, presumably to go find Ross.

  Terry watched them go, then turned to look at the statue of Volai Hart. Even now, she was impressive. The staff clutched in her left hands apparently had some pretty hefty mojo, and it was capped with a ruby bigger than a grown man's fist. The ruby was covered in golden veins that made it look vaguely like a real heart, frozen in crystal.

  Her expression was one of irritation and anger. Euryale's curse worked so quickly that those who had been subject to it and were lucky enough to be revived generally didn't even remember seeing her. Just a flash of blue or red eyes, and that was it.

  She never knew what hit her.

  It wasn't the first time he'd had that thought, nor was it the first time it failed to really comfort him. As best he could determine, just the promise of what he might have been able to give her had been enough to turn the Vicereine of Florence — who had by all accounts ruled her city well — to evil.

  And I will NEVER get away from that, from what templates mean to these people.

  "Does your body still hurt?" Euryale asked.

  "Yeah. Pretty much all the time now," he admitted, perfectly happy to be distracted. "At first I thought it had something to do with being addicted to Laina's milk, but now ...? I just don't know. I barely remember what it's like to feel normal."

  "I tried some of her milk yesterday. It is quite good, but not that good," she said, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

  "Still, if you are sore in body, why do you insist on more exercise?"

  He slapped his hands on his knees as he stood up, chuckling. "I've got nothing else to do, love. At least when I'm actively working, the pain seems to go away for a little while."

  He didn't bother to mention that after he stopped, the pain seemed worse when it did come back. At this point it almost felt like the ague and soreness were a personal challenge, something to be overcome the same way he preferred dealing with most of his life's biggest problems.

  Beat it until it stops moving.

  "We need to figure out what's happening with you," she said, and he could hear the worry in her voice as she caught up and walked by his side. "You don't look sick to me, but ... if you don't feel right, then you aren't right."

  "Yeah, tell me about it," he said, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. He pulled her in and kissed the top of her head, feeling the snakes rustling under his lips. It unsettled him, but he knew she really liked it when he did that, and he wanted to let her know he cared. Any time he paid attention to the pieces of her that weren't human looking, it seemed to perk her up a bit. This time was no exception.

  She giggled and he felt her cool metal claw slide under his shirt and around his back to rest on his hip. He heard her wings rustling as she resettled them behind her, and several of her snakes kissed the side of his face and throat.

  They walked that way for a little while in companionable quiet, his arm
over her shoulders and hers around his waist, until she asked, "Master?"

  "Mm?"

  "Now that you've had time to think, do you regret bringing me with you? Even though I scream at you and hurt you and hate heroes? Now that you know I'm selfish and cruel and careless?"

  "No, Euryale. I don't. I thought about it, and there just wasn't any way I was going to leave you in that hole. If I'd known everything that would happen, I'd still bring you with me. There will be problems ... maybe tragedies, but we'll work it out. As long as you keep trying, I swear I will never give up on you."

  The words came straight from his heart and he spoke them without hesitation, but the memory of the way she'd been when they'd first met tore at him. No one deserved what she'd suffered. No one.

  Better to die ... and she can't.

  "Thank you, Master," she whispered. Her snakes were fanned out between them to hide her face, and he glanced away and cleared his throat in a fit of self-consciousness. She squeezed him tightly with her one arm, but didn't say anything else. He studiously ignored the tiny sounds she made as they walked, and wondered if there was some kind of class he could take on how to not make the women in his life cry.

  I just wanted to cheer her up. Damn. Whatever this job is ... I'm beginning to think I suck at it.

  9

  City in Flames

  Florence was in complete chaos.

  After the dragon had landed yesterday, rumors started flying. When it landed again today, fires started raging. People were convinced that the city now existed on borrowed time and sought to escape it by any means. The ships in the harbor had long since set sail for safer waters, and people streamed from the western gate toward the mountains along the one road that led away from the city.

  At this point, the garrison wasn't even trying to stop the exodus. Most of the men Shy saw were concentrated around key points of defense, and simply worked to keep essential buildings like the city barracks, the tax office, and the medical clinics from being overrun and looted.

  It's clear that Albrecht knows his business. When the danger passes, many of these people will return, and those who don't stop running will inevitably be replaced. The city will suffer, but it will survive.

  Certain areas of the city, particularly those closest to the keep, remained relatively calm. The areas worst hit by fires though were at the docks, and that was the direction Shy was headed. She needed information. In order to get it quickly she needed an undercity contact, and she only knew of one.

  Mamma Moo.

  The fact that the Kolenkos were also supposedly bedded down in the docks area made the trip all the more urgent.

  I'm glad Tee hasn't seen this ... doesn't yet know how bad it is. This will tear at his heart when he learns.

  Without her mask, Shy could not effortlessly blend into the crowds as she might have done, as she would have preferred.

  Instead she made best use of the Locutor's staff, and its crackling head of green electricity proved more than sufficient to clear her way. Common folk did not make a habit of interfering in the business of casters, particularly those in control of a magic staff.

  'This is a useless display. Let me vaporize these chattel.'

  Like its plain, unadorned surface, the magic staff's voice was cold and toneless. Despite that, there was no doubt as to the depth of its passions, for as it spoke, the arcing lightning coming from its ball reached toward the nearest people on the street. She exercised her will to force the play of lightning back to the six-inch radius she'd set for it.

  Then she wondered, not for the first time, what she should tell Tee about the staff. Magic rods and wands were charged items that relied on energy stored in them in advance to work. Magic staves were a completely different sort of tool. They bonded with their users, and while bonded were able to draw directly from that person's mana pool, concentrating and focusing it in the same way a lens could turn simple sunlight into fire. They were more powerful, had a wider range of potential effects than most other tools ... but they tended to gain personalities of their own based on their interactions with their users over time. These personalities didn't always benefit the user and if they did then they most certainly didn't benefit the next user.

  That Locutor must have gotten along famously with this hideous thing.

  'I am elegant in my simplicity. And yes, we got along well. SHE knew the value of wanton displays of aggression.'

  Shy shuddered, but made no reply.

  Magical staves like the one she held could only be created by the mightiest wizards, and a few of them gained legends of their own as they passed from one caster to another down through the centuries. This rod, however, had no legend, though it called itself the Rod of Arcs. It was an unknown, and it would say nothing of who had made it, or where it came from. The only things she had been able to glean from it related to its recently deceased owner.

  And none of THAT speaks well of EITHER of them.

  'My only regret is that my warning came too late. For a glorious decade and more she and I vaporized her enemies. She was magnificent. YOU are a weakling.'

  I have other strengths.

  'Lies comfort only so long as battle does not rage. You are weak, and that weakness will cost your bond everything.'

  Shy felt anger flare, but fought it down to mere irritation. The staff constantly tested her willpower and sought chinks in her resolve. The fact that it was entirely made of metal made it very difficult for the dryad to control, and only her close bond with Tee gave her the strength to dominate it. Had it not been for the power she'd gotten from him, the staff would have used her own pool of magic to blast her to bits when she'd first taken hold of it, and it still didn't like her.

  At all.

  Instead, it wanted more than anything to bond itself to Tee. During her capture of the staff, it had reached out and touched him, and something it had seen inside him had sparked in it what Shy could only describe as lust. It felt him to be a kindred spirit, and given how bloodthirsty it was, that terrified her.

  'That man has steel in him, unlike YOU. He and I would make history, raining thunder and destruction on the world.'

  Hush. I will teach you other ways to channel power than for the sake of simple destruction.

  'Give me to your master, and I will give him the power to-'

  She rapped the staff against a nearby stone wall as she passed, and its voice ended in a static squawk of indignation.

  If you are not quiet, I will drop you into the ocean.

  'You would not dare. You need me.'

  I could take the Rod of the Heart instead. It is greater than you will ever be.

  For a long moment, there was silence in her mind. Then the rod spoke again.

  'You do not have the strength to take up my sister and live. Even MY strength tests your limits. I have never encountered an eldritch so feeble. Your ability to manipulate your power is all but nonexistent. Your knowledge is little more than untested theory learned third-hand from students who barely understood the craft themselves. You are a child playing at adulthood. Should you lose your bond to the template, I will not hesitate to destroy you, and all your pretensions.'

  Shy gave no specific answer, but she knew that the staff in her hand couldn't lie to her while it was in her control. If it remained with her long enough, it would begin to bend to her will, reshaping its personality to suit hers, but for now it was a constant struggle to get the thing to do anything but blast her enemies. Fortunately, perhaps, right now that would do.

  'True. There is much killing to be done in your future. Watching you die in the process will amuse me while I search for a way to—"

  She slammed it against a wall again, and again it screeched in mental protest.

  'Stop that!'

  You belong to me now. I will teach you what you need to know to serve me well.

  'We shall see. Physical abuse has its limits. You should ...'

  It trailed off, and Shy gritted her teeth as she realized i
t was toying with her. There was much she needed to learn if she wanted to maintain firm control of the staff, and broaden its utility. She needed to find a teacher.

  Fortunately, I know where I can potentially find one.

  Shy was not exactly young, but she had spent most of her life as a tree, unconscious of her surroundings. In order to learn, to discipline one's mind, one had to be awake and aware. She had a lot of catching up to do. Tee relied on her as a mentor, relied on her knowledge, and she feared the day he realized just how little she knew.

  I will grow into him, just as he has grown into me. I will fill myself with everything he needs, and nourish him.

  'See to yourself first, weakling. If he relies on you now, he is doomed to disappointment.'

  Shy shut her eyes briefly, but chose not to argue. It was a waste of effort.

  The crowds thinned out as she made her way through Florence toward the section of town near the docks, and a pall of smoke covered the street. Fortunately, she did not need to breathe as mortals did, and was not bothered. The reduction of visibility was troubling, but the sickly green glow of her staff and the arcs of lightning it cast served both to light her way and dissuade those shadowy forms she saw from time to time in the streets ahead of her from causing problems.

  The roar of flames came from many directions, some closer than others, and that made her nervous. She had no control over fire, nor could she ever have control over it. Fire was not precisely antithetical to her but as an element it was violently opposed.

  None of the buildings immediately surrounding her were alight yet, but as she got closer to the docks, the roaring of the fires only got louder.

  When she finally arrived at the open air plaza that fronted Mamma Moo's establishment, she saw that the ramshackle bazaar that filled most of the space was awash with flame.

  She skirted the inferno, doing her best to ignore the heat of the blaze on her skin. When she got close to Mamma Moo's, she was surprised to find the owner seated calmly in one of the two rocking chairs on the wooden front porch of her establishment. Standing just to her side was a figure in a black cloak, and as Shy approached that figure raised its hands and spoke words of power that teased her ears, but did not reveal their secrets.