The Arkhel Conundrum (The Tears of Artamon Book 4)

by Ash, Sarah

  Gavril moved to sit beside her. “Alvborg’s out cold. Are you ready to leave?”

  She nodded—and realized that tears were running down her cheeks again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

  She wiped the tears away on her sleeve. “Sehibiel broke Anagini’s spell. But the songs are gone. I can’t remember a single note. Not one. And there’s no one left alive to teach me now that Grandma’s dead. Is this the price I have to pay?”

  “I fear it is.” He took her hands in his. “For both of us.”

  “Both of us?” She looked up and met his gaze, seeing her own sense of loss mirrored in his eyes.

  “Sehibiel has severed the blood bond. I can’t hear the druzhina anymore, nor they me. I think he did it to protect Risa from Morozhka.”

  “Oh, Gavril . . .”

  “And the further we travel from Azhkendir, the more I see that I’m no use to them anymore. They need a strong leader.”

  “But the Emperor placed his trust in you.” She squeezed his hands reassuringly. “He believes you’re the best man to oversee Azhkendir.”

  “I’m just a painter at heart, Kiukiu. I have no skills as a strategist or a warrior. Semyon and Vasili must have returned home to the kastel by now. They’ll have told Askold that I’m missing. And the moment Sehibiel severed the blood bond it would have felt like a death to them. My death. So now I have to stay dead—and never go back.” Even though he spoke quietly, she heard the resolution in his words. “We just have to go elsewhere and make a fresh start, somewhere no one knows who we are. For Risa’s sake.”

  “ But where can we go? Nowhere is safe anymore.” A slight sob escaped again.

  “Somewhere far from Anagini and Morozhka. Risa deserves to grow up like a normal child.”

  “But we have nothing. No money, no jewelry to sell, just the clothes we’re wearing.”

  “I still have this.” He showed her his ring of office, bestowed on him by Eugene with the title of High Steward.

  “Isn’t that a betrayal of the trust placed in you by the Emperor? If you try to pawn that, questions will be asked.”

  “In Azhkendir maybe, but not this far north.”

  “Sapaudia,” said Chinua suddenly from the other side of the fire, making them both start.

  “Where?” she asked. The name meant nothing to her.

  “Sapaudia. It’s a remote canton of Allegonde, high in the mountains but it used to be a separate kingdom once. It’s where the Magus was born.”

  “But it’s so far away.” The prospect of traveling so far to a country where they knew no one filled Kiukiu with apprehension.

  As if he sensed her uncertainty, Gavril put his arm around her shoulders. “It won’t be easy. But if it means that Risa can have a normal childhood . . .”

  It was the first time in so long that she had felt she could rely on him. She had been carrying the burden alone for so long yet now they would be going forward together, a family once more. She let her head rest against Gavril’s, grateful beyond words that he was there and they were reconciled at last.

  ***

  Traveling across the Khitari steppes at speed pulled by Chinua’s wolves was proving a unique and terrifying experience for Gavril. As they rattled across the grasslands in a little cloud of dust, he risked a glance at Kiukiu and Risa and saw that they seemed to be almost enjoying the bumpy, dusty ride. Yet he was clutching the side of the cart with one hand, his knuckles white, unable to let go, the other hand clamped on Kiukiu’s shoulder.

  “It’s all right,” Kiukiu said to him, patting his knee reassuringly. “You can trust Chinua. And he says it’s the only way to get to the northern coast.”

  Chinua had told them that merchant ships from Francia regularly called at the northern port in summer; the journey by sea would be a long and uncomfortable one, by passing Tielen, but they often took passengers. Gavril felt a slight involuntary twitch of his concealed wings beneath his shoulder blades as the thought it would be so much easier to fly floated through his mind, tantalizing, yet forbidden.

  And, at that moment, he sensed a presence high overhead. All his senses alert, bristling with alarm, he looked up and saw Oskar Alvborg flying above them, his great feathered wings catching the sunlight. Kiukiu looked up too and drew her cloak over the sleeping Risa protectively.

  “The drug’s worn off. Is he going to attack us?” she whispered.

  “He may have wings but he has no other powers.” Although even as he tried to sound reassuring, he prayed that Ardarel had not also gifted Alvborg with his fire-wielding abilities.

  “So there you are, Nagarian.” The words came drifting down. “You and your lovely little family. I see you’ve taken up with wolves.”

  “Do you have a death wish?” Gavril cried. “Didn’t you hear Sehibiel’s warning?”

  “I have unfinished business with my brother in Tielen.”

  Alvborg’s reply sent a chill through Gavril. But he ignored the bait. “Flying with those wings will shorten your life. You’ll die.”

  A burst of laughter echoed back across the empty steppe.

  “What do I care? There’s no one left to cry for me.” And he flapped onward toward the north.

  Kiukiu let out a sigh. “Thank goodness he’s gone. I thought he was about to take it out on us for drugging his tea.”

  “I think he has other more pressing matters on his mind.” Gavril was still on edge, even though Alvborg was out of sight. “If only there was some way I could warn Eugene.” Yet Tielen was far away and if Sehibiel’s warning were to prove true, Alvborg would exhaust his strength flying over the Saltyk Sea and plunge to his death in its icy waters. “We have to think of Risa now. We have to create new names, new identities for ourselves. It’s just the three of us from now on.”

  Kiukiu snuggled closer to him. “We’ll make it work. At least we’re together. And Anagini and Morozhka have no hold over us any longer. We may have lost our gifts but we’ll manage. We just have to learn how to be ordinary again.”

  Chapter 58

  “I made a promise to your great-grandfather. And I intend to keep it, Magus Bernay.” The Emperor’s clear gaze rested on Gerard, as piercingly intense as Linnaius’s. “I will protect you.”

  Gerard, still profoundly shaken by what he had experienced in the last couple of days, was not sure that he was ready to be called “Magus” yet; the title felt unearned.

  “Work for me and I will do all in my power to ensure your safety.” Eugene placed one hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “I loved your great-grandfather. He was my tutor and mentor. He was more like a father to me than my own father.”

  Surprised to hear a tremor in the Emperor’s firm voice, Gerard looked up and saw that Eugene’s gray eyes were bright with unshed tears. So it’s true. He’s not just saying this to console me; he’s been hit hard by Linnaius’s death.

  “The least I can do,” Eugene continued, clearing his throat, “is to ensure his heir has my full support and protection. If that is what you wish, Ingenieur?”

  What I wish? “Y-your imperial majesty does me too much honor.” Gerard found himself stammering out a lame reply, wishing he knew what the correct protocol was in such a situation. “But I’m just a simple ingenieur; I don’t yet understand what it is to be a magus. And,” he hung his head, “I was dishonorably dismissed from Tielborg University.”

  “I’ve had Baron Sylvius look into your dismissal already,” Eugene said airily. “It seems you were most unfairly accused. ‘Stitched up’ is the phrase I believe Sylvius used. Silvius has uncovered some evidence of collusion between Edwin Stenmark’s family and Doctor Maulevrier. A very generous endowment made to the faculty.” The Emperor handed Gerard a document. “And it seems that your one-time tutor has also disgraced himself at the competition. We suspect that he and his pilot tampered with the fuel. Such blatant cheating has brought disrepute on the university and his students. So Maulevrier has been removed from his position at the university and th
reatened with legal action if he contests the case. We’ve suggested that he might find suitable employment overseas in the colonies. For some years. We may even have placed him on a merchant ship sailing to Serindher to oversee a project in the Spice Islands.”

  Gerard caught the slightest hint of a roguish twinkle in the Emperor’s eyes. He realized his mouth had dropped open and hastily closed it.

  “But won’t my presence here draw Ardarel back again? I can’t place your majesty and the imperial household under such a threat.”

  “Ardarel?” The hint of mischievousness vanished from the Emperor’s eyes, to be replaced by a steelier look. “That’s a problem I will take care of myself or, rather, his human host.” He spoke with such conviction that Gerard was in no doubt that he would carry out his threat. “In the meantime, here’s a mystery for you to solve. Have you ever seen one of these before?” Eugene removed a mulberry velvet cloth from an object on his desk. Gerard stared at it, perplexed.

  “Is it some kind of clock?”

  “This is a Vox Aethyria. Possibly your great-grandfather’s most remarkable invention.”

  Gerard, intrigued, came closer and gazed down at the mechanism. Beneath a glass dome was an intricate array of cogs, dials and levers, all connected to a crystal whose many facets were dull, not reflecting any light. A small horn resembling the bell of a trumpet was linked to the device, protruding upward, almost inviting the observer to place their ear against it.

  “What is its function?”

  “This was the pride of the empire. This Vox was connected—via the Aethyr—to others in each of the Tielen embassies. My generals had one in their command tents. It’s a device that enabled the operator to exchange information over many hundreds of miles instantaneously.”

  Gerard stared at Linnaius’s invention in awe. “What a remarkable machine.” There was a catch in his voice. If only he had had more time to talk to his great-grandfather; their meeting had been so brief. “Your majesty said ‘was’ connected. Is there a problem?”

  “Unfortunately the whole system stopped working the day of the Second Darkness; the crystals lost their luster and the machines went dead, all at once.”

  “So it’s the crystals that powered the mechanism.” Doubly intrigued, Gerard reached out, itching to touch the dull facets. As his fingertips brushed the cold surface he felt a slight tingle and for a second he thought he saw the briefest of flickers of light at the heart of the stone.

  Eugene must have seen it too for he leaned forward eagerly with an intake of breath.

  “You’re the first with mage blood to lay hands on this machine since that day.”

  Gerard tried again and felt once more a tremor of energy that set his senses tingling.

  “Why does it respond to me?”

  Eugene glanced up and grinned at him. “Because you, Gerard, are your great-grandfather’s true heir and the magus who’s going to save the empire by making it work for me once more. What do you say?”

  Overwhelmed, Gerard opened his mouth to reply, longing to accept. And then he remembered. “I’d like nothing better than to serve you—” he began. “But before I’ll be of any use to your majesty, my great-grandfather told me I have to go to Enhirre to learn how to use my gift.”

  “Enhirre?” Eugene repeated the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Be on your guard out there. The Francians are still regarded with hate and suspicion after the atrocities committed there by the Commanderie and, judging by your name, you have Francian blood in your veins.”

  Gerard nodded. “My father—although he became a Tielen citizen when he married my mother.”

  “Before you go, you must see your great-grandfather’s laboratory. Altan Kazimir is working on the sky-craft fuel there at the moment; I’m sure the two of you will have much to discuss! I’ll get an equerry to show you the way.”

  ***

  Gerard’s first impression on entering the laboratory was of a great disorder. One bench was strewn with open ledgers; papers spilled out of folders, as if someone had been frantically leafing through them. Another bench was covered with glass phials, test tubes and all the mysterious paraphernalia of the alchymist’s art. A strange chymical odor tainted the air that made his eyes sting. But there was no sign of Altan Kazimir.

  “Professor Kazimir?” he called.

  Someone let out a cry. Startled, Gerard realized that there was a door at the far end of the main laboratory and that the cry had come from that direction.

  “Professor?”

  The door opened and a fair-haired man peered out at him warily, spectacles perched precariously on top of his head.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Gerard Bernay—”

  “The great-grandson?” Kazimir ventured out, approaching with one hand tentatively extended, as if unsure whether to shake Gerard’s in greeting or make a welcoming gesture. Gerard saw that the hand was trembling.

  “Are you all right, Professor?”

  “I’ve just made a rather alarming discovery,” Kazimir said. He sank onto one of the lab stools. “You see, there was a break-in at the laboratory just before the competition. At first I thought someone had tampered with the fuel. But it’s worse than that. Far worse.”

  “Worse?” Gerard echoed, not really understanding.

  Kazimir raised pale eyes to his. “Your great-grandfather’s notes. My research. The formula we devised to make aethyrite . It’s not here.”

  “You mean someone stole the formula?”

  Kazimir nodded. “There wasn’t time before the competition to check if anything was missing. Everyone was waiting. What shall I tell the Emperor?”

  “It’s not your fault.” Gerard wondered if he would ever be able to work with this nervous, unconfident man. “And surely it would be best to tell him as soon as possible. His agents might be able to apprehend the thief and retrieve Linnaius’s notes.”

  “But the implications!” Kazimir mopped the sweat from his face with a crumpled handkerchief. “In the wrong hands, it could be used against us. It’s a very powerful, volatile combustible substance.”

  “All the more reason to report the theft straight away. The Emperor won’t blame you—unless you keep the news a secret from him till it’s too late to catch the thief.”

  “You’re right.” Kazimir tottered a little as he got to his feet and Gerard instinctively put out one hand to steady him. “Would you mind if we postponed our talk until I’ve made a report to his imperial majesty?”

  “Not in the least.”

  ***

  Gerard came out from Linnaius’s laboratory to stand on the terrace, glad to breathe in the fresh air and feel the breeze on his face. He felt overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility he had just assumed or, more accurately, that he had been skillfully persuaded into accepting.

  I am not Kaspar Linnaius . How could he ever hope to live up to the Emperor’s high expectations? Yet there was something about Eugene’s frank, open manner that had won him over. Would he be letting the Emperor down if he admitted he felt in no way ready to accept his invitation?

  He leaned out over the balustrade gazing across the empty cobbled courtyard below toward the leafy haze of trees in the parkland beyond, instinctively checking the sky for any sign of Ardarel. He didn’t yet trust his senses to identify accurately that faint fiery shiver of heat that presaged the Heavenly Guardian’s presence.

  I can’t stay here.

  The sound of laughter, carefree and infectious, broke the silence as a group of young men came hurrying out from the rooms above the stables. Gerard recognized the dark blue uniforms with a catch in his throat: Toran, Branville and their fellow cadets were crossing the courtyard below, chattering together enthusiastically. They must be on their way to receive their gold medals from the Emperor.

  He wavered, torn between staying a little longer to see Toran rewarded by the Emperor and receiving the congratulations of the imperial court. But as he looked on, he noticed Branvi
lle reach out to hook his arm possessively around Toran’s shoulders and Toran briefly glance up at him affectionately with a familiar little smile.

  That decided him. It was time to leave.

  ***

  As his great-grandfather’s sky-craft rose higher into the air, all the weight of disappointment and heartache seemed to lift from Gerard’s shoulders, like morning mist evaporating in the first rays of sun.

  As Izkael slowly circled over the elegant palace of Swanholm, the slate roofs glinting in the cloud-sheened light, Gerard stared down, marvelling that such a busy imperial court, peopled by so many important politicians and nobles, home to the most powerful ruler in the hemisphere, looked no bigger than a dolls’ house and, from that height, just as insignificant as a child’s toy.

  “This must be how the Heavenly Guardians see us,” he said. “All our concerns, rivalries and machinations appear so small and unimportant when glimpsed from this distance.”

  He had left a letter for the Emperor, his new patron, promising to return as soon as he had fulfilled Linnaius’s last wishes. His hand rose to touch Linnaius’s silver key on its slender chain around his neck and he felt a thrill of anticipation. He had no idea what it would unlock—or what secrets he would discover along the way but he was ready to dedicate his life to keeping his promise to his great-grandfather.

  Protect the key.

  CAST LIST

  AZHKENDIR

  Gavril Nagarian, High Steward of Azhkendir

  Kiukirilya (Kiukiu) Nagarian, his wife

  Larisa, their baby daughter