I’d heard Jem speak that way before. But I’d never understood what he meant, until now. “You want to make us all erudite again. You want to reverse the spell of The First Ones.”
“Can you imagine what that would mean for our race?” Jem’s excitement showed in the manic smile on Tam’s face. His white eyes blazed with eagerness. “Can you imagine what it would mean for me? I would be hailed as the greatest man in all the Empire. The Healer of the Shinree. The Liberator. The Emperor. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to lead us into a new age. And it’s right at the tip of my fingers.”
He walked away and I blew out a quiet breath. My insides were shaking. An ocean of adrenaline was coursing through me. Was it possible? Could he actually reverse the spell? As much as I hated what was done to us, if all Shinree were capable of all magic, indulging our addictions would be that much easier—and that much more deadly.
But if that was how our race was born, and how we were meant to be, standing in his way and denying my people the chance to be repaired made me no better than the First Ones. So be it, I thought. I can’t let him anywhere near that much power. I’ll destroy the crown if I have to.
It was a tempting thought. Jem swore once it couldn’t be done. But if a spell had created the Crown of Stones, there had to be a way to negate the working.
Crossing to the back of the room, Jem went to the wall and pushed against one of the stones. I heard scraping as the stones moved and a long, flat drawer popped out from the wall beside him. Withdrawing an object wrapped in white cloth, he carried it to a nearby table and placed it down. He glanced at me eagerly.
As I moved closer, Jem unfolded the cloth, revealing a stone tablet about a foot high and near as wide. Rows of Shinree runes were carved into the surface. The tablet was older than anything I’d seen in Jillyan’s discoveries.
Jem roamed Tam’s fingers along the stone edge. “What did you think of Lady Brielle?”
I frowned at his rapid shift in topics. “Your dinner guest? What does she have to do with this?”
“Lady Brielle’atroy’s family also descends from the First Ones.”
Brielle’atroy was my mother’s true name. I’d just spent the evening dining with, not one, but two of my ancestors.
“Some time ago, I persuaded the lady to part with this. There are two more in the series.” Tam continued caressing the stone. “This tells the story of the First Ones. The others are a record of their greatest creation: the Crown of Stones.”
“You think they hold the answer to reversing the spell?”
“I think they hold the answer to everything. The secrets. The truth. The future.” Jem left the table and started pacing. “I’m close, Varos. I just need more time.”
So do I, I thought, looking down at the runes. Badly, I wanted to know what they said. But I didn’t recognize any of the symbols. Worse, I couldn’t ask their meaning without revealing myself. It was safer to play along and let my father dole out the details.
It was also too damn slow.
“I can’t read this,” I admitted. “How did you translate it?”
“It’s an ancient dialect. Lady Brielle’s family was charged with keeping the tablets safe. She was kind enough to give me the key.”
“Where are the other tablets?”
“I’m hoping to have that information by the end of the night. The lady is rather susceptible to conversation…with the right stimulus.” Tam’s mouth curled in a fervent smile that was all Jem.
I turned away from the disturbing expression and studied the etchings. I’d been hoping for some similarities to the runes I knew, but the bold, sweeping strokes made no sense. The symbols kept blurring out of focus.
I rubbed my eyes and pulled at the neck of my tunic to let in some air. The heavy meal and wine had me lightheaded. I should have been more careful. Though less wine wouldn’t have made a difference. I still couldn’t read the runes. And I still couldn’t tell if my father was divulging the whole truth, or if he was feeding Varos what he always fed me: typical, half-truth, manipulative bullshit.
Staring at the tablet, transfixed by the secrets it held, I said boldly, “I want to help. If there’s a chance we can remedy what was done to us, we have to try.”
His footsteps came my way. “You would stand by my side? Do as I say?”
“If you allow me to help, if you teach me this writing….” I ran my fingers over the runes. “Yes, I will do as you say.”
“Gods,” he laughed. “You really take me for a fool.”
A chill of warning rolled across my shoulders. “No, father. Everyone knows you are a wise man.”
“Everyone but you.” He came up behind me. “Did you think I wouldn’t know my own wayward son?” Steel pressed cold against the back of my neck.
I went for a spell—and got nothing.
“I’m betting,” Jem moved the knife around to the side of my throat, “right about now, you’re wondering why you can’t cast.”
My anger clenched Varos’ jaw. “A bit, yeah.”
“Fortunately for me, Tam’s alchemy skills are impressive. He’s recently cooked up his first batch of something he’s decided to call Kayn’l.” Jem’s faint, smug chuckle brushed across my ear. “It’s an ancient word, meaning that which restrains, or stifles. Dominates,” he said with intent.
“Let me guess. The wine?”
“Too obvious,” he chided me. “The soup. Tonight offered the perfect opportunity. No one would question my refusal of the dish. The whole house knows Tam doesn’t care for the stuff. And I had multiple subjects to test it on, including my son. My real son who dropped into my lap like a gift from the gods. I see your timing hasn’t improved any.” I heard him smile. “It’s only a preliminary recipe. I don’t trust its effectiveness all that much. Certainly, it isn’t strong enough to disable two minds. But you and Varos are sharing one body…a body that is perhaps starting to feel a bit woozy?”
“How long have you known it was me?”
“Not as long as I should have. You were supposed to be dead. And Varos truly is like you in some ways. Irritatingly smart at times, yet altogether dense at others.”
“Put down the knife, Jem. I’m not here to fight. I just want to talk.”
“You stabbed me the last time you came to talk. Why should I believe you now?”
“You shouldn’t.” I flung my head back into his. Jem recoiled and the knife slipped out of position. Grabbing his arm, I slammed it down onto the desk a couple of times until the handle fell from his grip. Throwing an elbow back into his face, I spun, sunk my boot into his chest, and he was down. I kicked him again, and again. I couldn’t seem to stop. Remembering Jem’s cruelty, what he’d done to Sienn and Neela, I awarded Tam’s body one brutal kick after another. I wanted him to cry out, to beg me for mercy. I wanted blood.
I turned for the knife.
With a quick sweep, Jem swung Tam’s legs into mine. I stumbled. He came up off the floor and grabbed me. Losing balance, my back hit the desk. My weight splintered it. The floor rushed up fast and Tam’s body landed on top of me. The tablet fell beside us. On impact the stone broke in half, and my father lost it.
Bloody and wild-eyed, Jem reached over and picked up one of the pieces. Staring at the stone in his hands as if I’d fractured his heart along with the tablet, he groaned.
“No… No…” Rapidly, his anguish became rage. “No! No! NO!”
The knife was lying amid the remains of the desk. I reached for it and Jem smashed the chunk of tablet down on my wrist. The stone broke further.
I wasn’t sure which of our cries was louder.
“YOU!” he screamed. “You will pay for this!” Reth aimed for my arm again. I twisted clear. The stone in his grip hit the floor and became smaller yet. Tam stared in horror at the pieces of the tablet, and right then, I knew: Jem was done playing father. It was a sentiment he hammered in clearly as he bashed the remaining hunk of stone into the side of my head.
FORTY EIGHT
The door opened. Light from the hallway streamed in, making me squint.
The door closed. Shadows came back. Then light again, as lanterns all about the room sprung to life in unison. Blinking at the rapid changes, I tried (as I had for the last hour) to move. But the thick, leather straps over my chest and legs, buckling me to one of the altars, were cinched up tight. The metal cuffs around my wrists and ankles were bolted to the stone. Escape was unlikely. Surviving, now that my father had returned, wasn’t looking too promising either. Even if I got free, the Kayn’l in Varos’ body would keep me from reaching the spell that tethered me to my own. I was stuck where I was until the drug wore off. It can’t be much longer.
Already I had a sense of the stones sewed into Varos’ clothing, just not enough to pull them in. My head hurt from the dent my father put into it; further proof the Kayn’l had only a loose hold on me. My one chance was to keep him talking and give my body time to kick the effects of the drug.
Moving to a table stacked with books, Jem flipped Tam’s fingers through the pages of the one on top. Minutes passed. He wasn’t reading. He was making me wait, letting the tension build in some sadistic attempt to make me apprehensive and angry. It was a trick he’d inherited through the link from Draken. Yet, Draken provoked me for sport. My father was all about manipulation. If he wanted me agitated, it was because he thought it would get him somewhere. Or get him something, I thought. He’s thinks he can trip me up. Get me to talk. He thinks I know something.
Jem left the table. He didn’t speak or look at me. He walked up, slid a dagger out from the folds of his robe and stabbed it clean through the center of my right hand.
“Gods…” Clenching my jaw, I bit off the rest of the groan. I took a shot then; at convincing myself it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t actually my hand. But the blade impaling it made the particulars of ownership a little murky.
“Mine collapse,” he muttered, absently twisting the dagger. “I knew something so mundane could never take you down. You’re too much of a thorn in my side to be rid of that easily. But,” watching me contend with the pain, Jem smoothed the hair back from my face, “I suppose you are my thorn.”
My hand on fire, it took me a second to catch my breath. I used it all in one shout. “I am your son!”
“What good is a son who has no respect for his father? Tam’s youngest may have far too many opinions for his age, but at least when it counts, Varos knows his place.”
Rough and strained, I laughed at him. “You don’t have any idea how goddamn pitiful you look. The way you try to play father to Varos…it makes me sick.”
“Varos honors me. He admires me. He appreciates my guidance.”
“Because he doesn’t know what you are. If that boy had any idea what you were doing to his father—his real father—he would have nothing but hatred for you.”
“He would understand that I care for him. That I can help him.”
“You will destroy him. Like you did me.”
Jem lifted Tam’s white brows. “Is that an admission of defeat?”
“It’s a promise of how fucking slowly I’m going to kill you.”
“And how will you accomplish such a feat, L’tarian? Not even the great Tam Reth could oppose me for long. He did try. He resisted well in the beginning. Sienn’s training only took me so far. But I was persistent. I wore on his defenses, pushing him down, until I could exert my will over his. It took time and a great deal of painful effort. But all men can be broken eventually. Speaking of which…” he smiled. “Let’s have that talk you wanted. I assume you have something specific on your mind?”
With effort, I swallowed my anger. “Neela. I want you to release her from your spell.”
“Neela?” With a pensive smile, he pulled the dagger out. “So, she was the one.”
My hand screamed for attention, but I still caught his implication. “The one?”
“I knew we couldn’t keep you locked up for good. At some point, you would wriggle your way free, round up your irksome group of cohorts and convince them to come against me. So I spelled them. Kane, Neela, Draken’s bastard brother—in case his loyalty to Langor wasn’t as deep as it appeared. I made sure that if you ever regained the crown’s power, which apparently you have, they would be compelled to wrest it from you. Fighting one of Draken’s brutes over the crown is far different than fighting someone you care for. Isn’t it?” He flashed a quick, patronizing smile. “Still, I considered Neela the least likely of my sleeping soldiers to awaken first. Of course, she will never care for you now.”
“She didn’t care before, so what does it matter?”
“It matters because I know you. You think you can save her. But you’re wrong.”
“I’m an erudite. I can break any spell you cast.”
“Not on her.” Face going pensive, he started tapping Tam’s blade on the side of the altar. “I am curious. How did you discover I was here?”
“You should be more concerned with what we’ve done to your body.” Worry sprung into his eyes and it made me grin. “Maybe you should pop back and take a look.”
Without warning, he shoved the blade back down through my hand. “Who arranged your escape from prison?”
“Fuck off,” I groaned.
He pushed the blade in deeper. “Was it Sienn?”
Gasping, I snarled at him. “I know what you did to her now. What you took—like the First Ones when they split the lines. How did you do that spell without the crown?”
“Attempting to recreate such a complex ritual without the precise details would be foolish. But, with knowledge of its base and with experiments and dabbling, I’ve managed to craft a poor imitation. You, son, are the one with a knack for it. It was pure instinct that drove you the night we stood in that cave high above Kabri—and you lied to me. You told me what I wanted to hear. You,” resentment tightened his voice, “mocked my offer of affection. Only, when you betrayed me, you took more than magic.” Tam’s head tilted in thought. “Being merely trained in the erudite ways and not actually one of them, you’d think I wouldn’t have so much to lose.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Instinct. Were you not paying attention? Your natural abilities astound me sometimes, son. Abilities you continuously squander. You have no appreciation for what the gods have given you. Throwing your spells around ignorantly and recklessly,” he said, with clear contempt and jealously. “Because of you, because of what you did to me that night, I am no longer competent at casting other lines. At times, even my own spells defy me. So you see. It’s on you. You forced me to find creative ways to replenish my diluted abilities.”
“Replenish them how? With what you took from Sienn?” He nodded and the whole thing suddenly made far more sense than I wanted it to. “You made yourself a vessel like the crown. It holds and uses the magic taken from the children of the First Ones. And you hold Sienn’s.”
“Among others. My method is no more than adding logs to a fire. Without constant kindling the flames consume the wood until only ash remains. The crown, however, never diminishes. The magic, like the stones, are bound together. Once I learn the secrets of the other tablets, the circlet can repair me.”
“All those times you questioned me in prison, claiming to want the Crown of Stones restored for the sake of our people. All the torture you put me through,” I growled. “And you just wanted your own damn magic back?”
“Of course I want it for our people. The crown will restore us and our place in this world. We were meant to be great, L’tarian. We were great. But,” he paused to smile. “What good is an emperor without power?”
I shook my head at his unending arrogance. “That city you’re building is just the start. You have no intention of bowing to Draken.”
“Draken’s time is done. All those with royal blood will be dealt with. I’ll suffer no challengers to my reign.”
His threat brought me back to Neela. “You said I couldn’t break th
e spell you put on Neela, like it was different somehow.”
“It’s not the spell that’s different.” Tam stared at me, lips pursed, as Jem decided if he should elaborate. I knew he would. My father rarely missed an opportunity to show how clever he was. “It all started right here,” he said at last, glancing around. “Tam’s gift for alchemy was extraordinary. He only discovered it in these later years, after he left the army. He would spend hours locked away, testing this and that. Stubbornly committing everything to memory, scribbling on whatever paper scraps he could find. Even now he leaves them about the house, irritating his wife. It will soon drive her to buy him a journal; some place he can keep his notes safe.”
My interest peaked. “The same journal you stole from Jillyan’s excavation site?”
“The same journal Sienn stole from me and brought to you.” Annoyed, he yanked the dagger back out. “Such a remarkable piece of history,” he said; louder to be heard over my gasping. “It’s a shame it was lost.” Tension formed around Tam’s eyes as Jem watched me, waiting for me to choke back the pain and reply. And I knew. That’s it.
There was something in Tam’s journal he wanted. Something he couldn’t get here in the past. I was right. The book was important.
“What do you care where it is?” I winced, glancing at the bloody hole in my hand. “Sienn told me you curled up with the fucking thing like a doll. I’m guessing that means you’ve already read it.”
“The runes are quite old. There were translation problems. I thought coming back to where the book was created would help. Going forward certainly hasn’t. Tam is far less obliging in the future. He knows I’m here.”
“Because you’re messing with his life. This isn’t some drifter you’re moving about like a game piece. History revolves around this man.”
“And it will continue to. The warnings against past traveling are nothing but fables. Erudite have lied to maneuver the world in their favor for centuries. Only the gullible believe otherwise.”
“Or anyone with a head so swollen they think the rules don’t apply.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 41