by Greg Curtis
“As it was meant to be Lord Severin.”
The priest sounded almost pleased though Simon knew he meant little of it. His title might have tripped easily off Vesar's tongue, but Simon knew a lie when he heard one. Vesar did not think of him as a lord or even one day a king. The man had no respect for him. Perhaps none for the nobility in general. But for the moment, as long as he did what he needed, Simon could let that pass.
“There has however been an unexpected development.”
“Unexpected development?” Simon was puzzled. He hadn't seen anything that might threaten the plan.
“Your brother has brought two handmaidens of Tyrel into the city.”
Of course! Simon had to control his reactions as he understood what Vesar meant. For some reason Vesar felt threatened by those with either magic or faith, and one of the agreements they'd made was that when Simon became king he would banish them all from the realm and kill any who refused to leave. Simon wasn't completely sure why. But as far as he was concerned it was a perfectly acceptable condition. Of course if he didn't and they stayed leaving Vesar hanging after he had taken the throne and forged his empire, that was also perfectly acceptable to him. As long as he took the throne and then the rest.
Actually it was preferable. Vesar wasn't to be trusted. No one who refused to show their face openly was to be trusted. And no one who arrived one day out of the ether with an offer too good to be true was to be trusted either. As for a man who wanted nothing but for his temple to be built – that was suspicious.
It was for that reason that Simon had insisted on banishing the various sparks and priests when he became king instead of simply killing them as Vesar wanted. It was also for that reason that he hadn't told him that his youngest sister April was also a spark. It had nothing to do with concern for them or any unworthy notions of family bond or morality. It was simply that banished people could return. And if Vesar betrayed him he might need them. If Vesar feared them they could be useful.
He'd also set his best people the task of following the priest around the city, shadowing him in secret. If and when the time came for the two of them to part company he would be ready.
For the moment though he just needed to placate the worried priest and that seemed simple enough.
“Marcus had a rush of blood to the head and for the first time in his miserable life, an idea. He brought Edouard with him to see the hamadryad, and instead of being killed they returned from her realm with the two handmaidens.”
Simon was annoyed by that. He'd hoped that Marcus would get himself killed. His brother was a self righteous arse, even worse than their father. He was also a renown lecher who still spent his days pretending to be a heroic soldier fighting wars and protecting the realm when Therion was at peace. But all of that he could abide. What he couldn't abide was that the thick witted brute constantly judged him and found him wanting. So when Marcus had volunteered to speak to Tyrel Simon had felt sure he'd be killed and had celebrated. He was after all the very sort of man she most hated. So to have him not only survive but succeed in his mission had come as a bitter disappointment. Still, it was only a minor annoyance and it shouldn’t upset their plans.
“Fortunately Edouard does not live in the city and he will not be here for long. He also has no clue as to who is behind the attack. And if you have done your work well, he will not guess. He is a fool who spends his days playing with his toys. The two handmaidens are here to help with the recovery. They will be spending their days leading the mammoths away from the city. And now that their shrine in the city has been damaged, they will not likely stay after that.”
The situation didn't bother Simon particularly. Neither Edouard nor the handmaidens posed him any threat. And secretly he quite liked the thought that it worried Vesar. More than anyone else Vesar might one day prove a threat to his ambitions, and Simon didn't trust him. Not completely. A gambler always knew his rivals. The man had his own plans. For the moment they walked together but one day and one day quite soon he suspected they might cross paths.
“I'm glad to hear that My Lord.” Clearly though he wasn't. And while Vesar hid his upset behind his considered words Simon had dealt with enough liars over the years to know the truth. He also knew the lies he had to get to the bottom of.
“But?”
“But they may still prove a problem. Your brother in particular. He has already worked out the direction from which the primary portal opened.”
“A line on a map.” Simon wasn't worried by that. “A line some thousands of leagues long. Besides which Edouard is the fourth child. He has been raised all his life to a life in which he knew he would have no responsibilities. He has always done as he pleases. Tinkering with his machines. Studying his books. He has no love of politics. No interest in matters of state. Not even any great knowledge of trade. And while he is loyal to King Byron he has never been tested.”
“When the time comes he will bow to me. And when he is faced with adversity he will flee or fall.” And that Simon knew for the truth. Edouard was a nobody. A weakling. Marcus was a far more dangerous enemy even though he had neither magic nor wit. But he knew the intricacies of the family business, he had courage and an understanding of battle that few others could match. And this day he had shown himself to be not always as slow witted and reckless as he appeared. He would have to be handled carefully.
“That is good to know My Lord.”
Again the black priest was lying. He could hear it in his voice. And that annoyed him. But for the moment there was no point in pushing the matter any further. Not when there was work to be done.
“In any case it's good that the handmaidens have come. As they lead the great beasts away from the city it leaves you free to do what you do best. And Lord Smytherin is in need of a little priestly counsel. His wheat fields look like producing bigger crops and harvesting earlier this year, and he is just fool enough to supply that to the city at cost instead of transporting it to the cities of the Cross for good profit in the wake of the attack. It will go some way to easing the fears of famine the people have now that the food stores have been destroyed. And people with expectations of full bellies are less likely to be discontent with the king. Fortunately his son Pyrea is no such fool. Perhaps a little food poisoning would be in order?”
It wouldn't take much to kill the doddering old fool, and Simon would be happy to be well rid of him. The man was like his father; sanctimonious. And there was no room for sanctimonious old fools in his realm. Honestly he wondered, how did these people ever make enough coin to have estates?
“I'm sure that could be arranged Lord Severin.” The priest bowed to him, just a tip of the head really, but enough to show respect.
Simon knew that it like everything else he had said was a lie though. The man would have to be watched carefully. But for the moment he was useful. The most useful ally he had. And that was enough. Though maybe it was time to give him a little incentive, and keep him working faithfully.
“You know, I've been thinking Vesar. About this problem you have with the other faiths. Would it be so unwelcome to perhaps leave a little evidence that they had something to do with the mammoths? Perhaps a note could be found suggesting motive. Would that be of some help to you?”
“Yes Lord Severin, that would be very helpful.” Vesar suddenly sounded happy.
Simon couldn't see his face, but he was absolutely certain that somewhere in that mass of darkness that hid his head he was smiling.
“Good. Then leave that with me. I'll have some of my forgers prepare something in the next few days.”
“Thank you Lord Severin.”
This time when he bowed Simon was sure he actually meant it. It wouldn't last of course. But for the next few days at least he would be happy. And happiness translated to loyalty in his business. Which was why he was happy when his ally was happy. For the moment Simon could trust the black clad priest.
That was enough to assuage the priest's concerns and when Vesar b
owed to him and left Simon was satisfied with the way things had gone. Satisfied enough to once more sink back into the comfort of his chair, close his eyes and listen to the beauty of the music floating through the air.
All in all, Simon thought, today had been a good day. But there were better yet to come.
Chapter Seven
The library was a quiet space even within Edouard's already quiet home. It was his private sanctum. Only he ever used it, though in fairness he did live alone. But when he had guests they generally never went into the library. The servants knew better than to bother him when he was there reading. And even when someone thumped on the front door he could seldom hear it with the library door shut. And he always kept it shut. He didn't like to be disturbed when he was reading.
Nor did he like the library to be disturbed. The books were always in order on the shelves. The desks were neat and tidy, the chairs correctly placed in front of them. Pens were in their holders, inkwells were full and placed perfectly at the far end of each desk. Blotter papers were always completely unstained, and the writing paper was perfectly stacked in the little trays. Even the lamps were full of oil, not one of them so much as a quarter down. The servants kept it spotlessly clean and no one ever messed it up. Least of all him.
Until now. Now it was a mess.
Edouard was actually sorry for the mess he'd made. He liked his library to be immaculate. It was the one part of his home that should be. But more than that he needed it to be useful. Ready for him when he needed it. And these last two days, he had needed it.
So the elegant oak desks and tables were covered in papers for once. Notes taken from his interviews and observations in the city. Messy scrawls from his analyses of what he'd found. Books were piled up on top of them as he'd hunted out every reference to dominion magic he could find. And of course maps. Endless maps of Theria, most of which were now covered in scrawls.
As for the shelves, they'd been plundered. Normally he kept his books in perfect order, but as his questions had grown in number along with his need for answers he'd started pulling them down at a huge rate. Now there probably wasn't a shelf left without a few gaps. And all of those gaps would have to be filled again when he was done.
The only parts of his library not in some form of disarray were the displays. Normally he kept a few shelves full of relics and ancient artefacts. Things that farmers tilling their fields had dug up and explorers had found. Most people throughout the realm knew him as the man to see if you wanted something technological identified or to see if an ancient artefact contained magic, and he had a bad habit of buying a lot of what they brought to him. Then he tended to arrange the pieces on pedestals and display shelves scattered throughout the library and the rest of the house. The maids of course hated them because of the endless dusting they required.
“Might I ask what you're doing Lord Edouard? The maids have become alarmed at the state of the library.”
Edouard looked up to see Kyriel at the doorway and he wondered briefly why she was bothering him. He hadn't agreed to take her back to the city again had he? But he didn't think he had. The mammoths were being allowed a rest day as the handmaidens prepared themselves for the last few days of their migration. As he understood it they were safe enough in the higher fields where they'd been left to graze. No one was going to disturb them. And the last part of the journey to their new home was going to be quite difficult as they had to persuade the great beasts to cross land they wouldn't like. Full stomachs would make that persuasion easier.
Still, whatever she was doing there, he decided he could use an interruption. He was tired of writing out his conclusions for the court. And maybe Kyriel was right to ask. After all, the library was not his workshop where he normally spent most of his days. And he was making rather a mess of it with his maps and charts sprawled all over every one of the desks. But there was method to his madness.
“Plotting the mammoths' path of destruction.”
“Why?”
“Because it seems strange. Curious. Suspicious.”
At first he hadn't thought much of the damage done. It had seemed to be everywhere. The random destruction one would expect of a herd of stampeding mammoths. Until he remembered one thing – they were herd animals. They ran as one. They should have torn a straight line directly through the heart of the city. But they hadn't. They had spread out, causing damage to every part of Theria. Why?
But even as he had wondered that another curiosity had caught his attention. Actually he wasn't the one to notice it. A priest of the Temple of Light had mentioned it in passing. It seemed that all of the temples had been severely damaged. The priest had put the coincidence down to the vagaries of chance. To Virius having a bad day. But the moment he had said it the suspicion had started to grow in Edouard's thoughts. Every temple had been trampled? What if their path hadn't been random? What if they had somehow been guided?
It was impossible. He knew of no one with the magic or technology to control a stampeding mammoth. When they panicked they ran. It was as simple as that. And he doubted even a flame with the magic of dominion could so much as slow them down. Yet he was slowly becoming certain that they had still been guided. The targets were too obvious.
Every temple and shrine in the city. All seven of the main ones either damaged or destroyed and with them the temple of light and five other smaller shrines and temples. The three houses of the other sparks that dwelt in the city had also been trampled along with the infirmary where Janus worked and the smithy where Fergis spent his days. Some of them according to witnesses, had been trampled several times over as if to make sure. And most telling of all, all five barracks had been destroyed along with the guard houses and both training grounds. Then there were the dozens of food stores and granaries throughout the city that had all been hit.
Damage for the rest of the city averaged around three parts in ten. So three out of ten alehouses, inns and pubs had been trampled. Three out of ten private homes. Three out of ten shops. But with these four groups the hits were ten out of ten. That couldn't be coincidence.
It was an attack and a coordinated one. Someone had taken out everyone who could pose a threat. The soldiers, the priests and the magical. Then they'd taken out the food supplies too, presumably to create a famine. And they'd done it by using a weapon that no one could ever imagine being wielded.
“Suspicious how?”
Kyriel stepped fully into the library and made her way over to stand beside him. And as she did so, he couldn't help but be a little moved by her beauty. There was something about her golden skin and long white blonde hair that entranced him a little. But of course he wasn't foolish enough to mention it. Ever. Not only was she a handmaiden, but she was also overly fond of criticising him. It seemed she doubted everything he said, everything he did. Sometimes he thought of her as a cross between a stern maiden aunt and a strict school mistress. But she had asked a question and she had the right to know. Maybe even the need. And Tyrel would want to know too.
“I think they were guided in their stampede.”
“Guided? How?”
She sounded incredulous, which wasn’t really surprising. He had no explanation for how it was done. He had no knowledge of any flame with the magic of dominion living in any of the nearby realms, and the only spark with it was his sister April. She not only didn't have the strength she didn't use her gift.
“I don't know. But I'm almost certain of it.”
Before she could say anything further he set out the evidence for her to see for herself. Showing her the way certain groups of buildings had been targeted. Linking the reports from witnesses with the trail of destruction that mammoths had wrought. Showing her the strange paths the various groups of mammoths had taken in their panic. And then he told her of the two conclusions he’d reached. Inescapable conclusions.
The first was that the attack had been done as a deliberate attempt to leave the city defenceless, presumably for future attacks. That of course was alr
eady suspected by most of the militarily minded. No one would launch such an attack unless they had further plans.
The second conclusion was more troubling. The portal had been opened from thousands of leagues away. There was no doubt of that. So there had been no need to have someone in Theria to create a receiving portal. But whoever had opened the portal in the troll wastes could not have also guided the mammoths in their stampede from there. Unless they had come through with the mammoths. And if someone of that power had suddenly arrived, then they would have been spotted by those with magic. He hadn't been. So the conclusion was obvious. There was already someone in Theria in league with whoever had sent the mammoths. Someone who had been hiding his talent.
There was an enemy inside the city.
And that he decided as he heard the clock in the hallway chime ten bells, was something he was going to have to tell King Byron right away. He had spent enough time checking and rechecking his facts. His report was complete. All he was doing as he sat there going over his findings was prevaricating. Putting off an unpleasant task.