The World Awakening

by Dan Koboldt

  Chapter 9

  Friends and Enemies

  “The best weapon against one enemy is another.”

  —Felaran proverb

  Veena had done what Valteroni and Caralissian ambassadors had failed at for decades: brokered a formal alliance between their two nations. That wasn’t even the part she enjoyed the most. It came instead when they’d broken camp and were preparing for the ride back. The guard-captain approached to hold her horse’s reins as she mounted.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said.

  He looked around, and lowered his voice. “I can scarcely believe what I witnessed back there.”

  She smiled. “I’m in disbelief myself.”

  “Did you know that you might do this, when you came here?”

  “I had some inkling,” she admitted. “But I gave it low odds.”

  “It was really something, watching you work.” He held on to her reins and looked at her. “Might be the second time we underestimated you.”

  “Let’s hope there’s not a third.”

  He put on a pained expression. “I know I’m not in a position to ask favors, but would you consider setting a gentler pace on the ride back? My men won’t let you out of their sight, but I’d just as soon not kill their horses.”

  He almost sounds respectful. “I’ll do my best, Captain.”

  She floated back to Valteron City on a cloud, basking in the glow of her accomplishment. She couldn’t wait to tell Richard. Only he could fully appreciate the magnitude of a Caralissian-Valteroni strategic alliance. Undoubtedly, he’d been laying the groundwork toward this for months. Improving the trading terms that Valteroni ships offered to Caralissians. Building a military strength that could answer the looming threat. Summertree had never questioned Veena’s claims about it, which meant that Caralissian intelligence sources in Valteron were at least as good as Richard suspected.

  She passed no less than three new security checkpoints between Valteron City’s outer limits and the palace itself. That was good. Maybe Richard had begun to give credence to the rumors of an imminent attack. She passed through the last security checkpoint and rounded a corner to the entrance of the Prime’s offices. At least, that’s what it should have been. Instead, she came face-to-face with a broad, featureless stone wall. “Whoops.” She retraced her steps to the checkpoint and tried again. Left at the shell fountain, right at the bust of the former Valteroni Prime that looked uncannily similar to Albert Einstein. Then around the same corner and . . . no, a stone wall again. Odd.

  She thought she must be going crazy, until she started back a third time and bumped right into Darius Blackwell. He grunted and took a step back, with a face that said he’d smelled something unpleasant. It brought a flush to the crescent-shaped burn scars on the side of his face, a casualty of the fire that ravaged his compound after Kiara’s raid.

  Veena still felt that pang of guilt when she saw the scar. She’d played a part in that raid.

  “I thought you were in Caralis,” he said.

  “I’ve just returned.”

  “Weren’t gone long, were you? I assume they said no.”

  “Oh? Why do you assume that?”

  “Caralissians only care about themselves.”

  Veena couldn’t speak for all Caralissians, but Baron Summertree hardly fit this description. “You don’t give them enough credit.”

  “Or perhaps you give them too much.”

  “Caralis and Valteron want many of the same things. It’s long past time that both sides recognize that.”

  “Are they willing?”

  She didn’t want to tell him the whole story yet, because Richard should hear it first. And Blackwell should perhaps not hear it at all. “I think they’ll listen to reasonable discourse.”

  “So our enemy now claims to have our best interests in mind.” Blackwell gave her a feral smile. “You’ll forgive me if I’m dubious.”

  Veena didn’t think the admiral was still talking about Caralis. She hadn’t been certain if he recognized her from the raid on his island keep, but it sure seemed like he did. Yet it didn’t matter right now. Maybe it was the saddle sores or her exhaustion, but the thinly veiled accusation in his comment irritated her quite a bit. She couldn’t resist offering a little jab in return. “Still don’t trust anyone, Admiral?” She tsked. “What a fine Prime you’d have made.”

  He growled something unintelligible and shoved past her to the stone wall. She remained there, savoring both her poke at him and the fact that she wasn’t alone in getting turned around in this place. Then he did something, and a faint click sounded from the stones in front of him. A vertical crack appeared to the side, then widened as a seamless panel of the stone wall slid aside. Lamplight glowed in the space within. Familiar lamplight. It was the Prime’s chambers. So it wasn’t her imagination or absentmindedness that brought her to a stone wall. It was a new security feature.

  Unfortunately, Blackwell happened to glance back and must have seen the surprise on her face. He snickered. “Seems like I’m not the only one with trust issues.”

  Veena glared at his back as she followed him in. Then she had to suffer the indignity of being held back by the two Tukalu warriors who were stationed outside Richard’s inner chamber. Their hair hung in bead-laced braids to their waists, where each had two mean-looking axes tucked into their belts. The dark tattoos on their cheeks made her want to cringe.

  They relieved the admiral of his sword, but let him pass without a second glance.

  Veena would have followed, but the taller one with the scar on her cheek leaned in to block her way. “Who are you?”

  “Veena.” She caught herself. “Dahlia, that is.”

  The woman examined her fingernails, completely unhurried. “Is it Veena, or is it Dahlia?”

  “It’s both.” She felt a wave of irritation. “I need to see the Prime.”

  “He’s in a meeting.”

  A meeting that started all of ten seconds ago. She took a breath. “I’m aware of that, but this is important.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He said nothing of it. Best wait until the admiral is finished.”

  So Veena stood there tapping her foot outside the thick double doors, listening to the rumble of Blackwell’s and Richard’s voices from beyond and casting the occasional glare toward the Tukalu. They ignored her. Their chitinous bone armor seemed out of place here in the midst of Valteroni opulence. It was like encountering hyenas in a five-star restaurant. At last the doors opened. Blackwell took his sword and walked past without a glance, as if Veena were one of the wall fixtures.

  “You may enter,” the Tukalu woman said.

  How generous of you. “We were on a ship together for an entire day, you know.” She composed herself and walked in.

  Richard—the Valteroni Prime—paced behind a sturdy wooden table that bore a hand-painted scale map of the Alissian mainland. The level of detail outshone even the company’s parchmap design, though clearly they were the basis for this. Strange that Richard had never shown this to anyone when he was still working for the company. The research team would have killed for it.

  He glanced up, as if sensing this burning question in her mind. “Veena! I didn’t realize you were back.”

  “I’ve just arrived. I came straight here. Would have been here sooner, but your new guards kept me out.”

  The corners of his mouth curved upward. “By that you mean the Tukalu warriors you dumped on me before running off to meet the prince.”

  “Are they working out?”

  “You didn’t get in, did you?” He laughed. “I’ve never felt safer and more terrified in my life. Come, sit.” He gestured to the table and chairs on the side of the room, a plain wooden set that might be found on someone’s patio, if this world had patios. “Tell me of your visit with the Caralissians.”

  So she did. They sat at the little table, with her giving the report and him interjecting with the occasi
onal burst of energetic insight. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself back in the research lab with him before he went rogue, giving the same sort of briefing in the very same way. Only he was a different person back then, and so was she.

  “If we’d gone there to negotiate about shipping wine, the meeting would have been over even sooner,” she finished.

  “They may eventually come around on that, but it’s less important,” Richard said. “We implied that’s what the meeting was about for two reasons. Can you guess what they are?”

  “First, because a summit on trade is far less dangerous than a discussion of a military alliance.”

  “Good. What’s the other reason?”

  She really didn’t know, so she considered what she knew of Caralis and offered her best guess. “Because they care about the wine?”

  Richard shook his head. “They know what they have, with the wine. They won’t be bullied over it. No, we implied this would be about the wine so that they’d send someone who can speak for the royal family.”

  “Summertree rather implied he could do so, though he didn’t say it outright.”

  “He was being polite. For the past several years, he’s been Maya’s principal advisor on foreign policy.”

  “Maya?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Her Majesty, the Queen of Caralis.”

  “You’re on a first name basis with her?”

  “Ah, no. Not in public, at least. But I’ve known her a long time.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you got them to agree. First the Tukalu, and now this.” He put his hand on top of hers. “I’m proud of you, Veena.”

  She enjoyed two warm feelings: the soft one from his hand, and the fiercer one in her belly. At last, someone who admired her work, her abilities. If only I could freeze this moment forever. If only she were brave enough to tell him how she really felt.

  Richard’s smile faded. He lifted his hand. “I wish my news were half as good.”

  Veena’s warm feelings faded. “What happened?”

  “Two things. First, that the loss of my arcane protections was no accident. The Enclave council voted to discontinue their quiet agreement with us.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not entirely clear, but I suspect it was under the influence of your former colleague.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t want to say Quinn’s name. It felt like a betrayal—which, of course, it was. He’d only been doing his job. “Gods, I’m sorry, Richard.”

  “As am I. It means we can no longer trust the Enclave magicians. I’ve asked Moric and his colleagues to stay away from Valteron.”

  “Is that the other piece of bad news?”

  He laughed, but there was no humor to it. “No, we’re still on the first one. The second is that over the last two weeks, nearly all of my sources in Felara have fallen silent.”

  “Where in Felara?”

  “Everywhere within a hundred leagues of the gateway. My last update was from Silas, who runs the common room in Wenthrop. He said there was talk of an army to the north of them.”

  “Let me guess. Well-armed mercenaries in dark armor.” Armor that fit them perfectly and never rusted. Weapons that never needed sharpening.

  “I think we must assume the worst: that this is a full-scale invasion aimed at quelling any resistance to CASE Global’s plans for Alissia.”

  “We both knew this would happen eventually,” she said.

  “Yes, but I’d hoped to have more time. Especially now that we have Caralis on our side.”

  More time. She stood, and studied the continental map. “How will they come?”

  “By land, almost certainly. Kiara knows we control the seas, and they don’t have nearly enough ships to move an army.”

  She ran her finger down across Felara to the border of New Kestani. “Nevil’s Gap.”

  “That would make the most sense,” he said. “The Felarans and Kestani have ended hostilities, so the Gap is open. They’ll have no trouble moving men through in small groups.”

  “Unless the Kestani closed the Gap.”

  “I don’t see why they’d change their minds so soon after coming to terms.”

  “What if we told them the truth? That there’s an army of foreign invaders coming south?”

  He shook his head. “They won’t believe it. They’ll consider it a Felaran trick of some kind.”

  “Maybe it is a Felaran trick.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “If they’re more likely to believe Felara is the threat, let’s plant those seeds of doubt.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said. “Even so, it’s a long way to Nevil’s Gap, and I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “Then I will go.”

  He pressed his lips together. “New Kestani is not the safest of places.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve been there before.”

  “I’ll provide you a full complement of guards.”

  As tempting as it was to ride at the head of a column of armored guardsmen, she shook her head. “No.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “That will send the wrong impression. I think it might be better to borrow one of your Tukalu.”

  “Two Tukalu.”

  “Done.” She strode for the door. She’d need to leave almost immediately, but she wanted a bath first. No rest for the weary.

  Chapter 10

  Artificial Retirement

  “If you have to get out, do it before someone ups the ante.”

  —Art of Illusion, September 4

  Quinn woke slowly, in a place so bright that it hurt his eyes even though they were closed. The ground felt soft beneath him. The air smelled faintly of salt and fish. None of it made sense. Then he remembered the mill and the fall, and forced his eyes open. He lay sprawled on a sleeping pallet in a one-room cottage. Clay walls, thatch roof, dirt floor. Someone had taken off his boots and sword-belt, and left both against the wall by the door. It was wide open, allowing near-blinding sunlight to stream in. Not much of a prison, if that’s what this is.

  He squinted against the sunlight and made out the shapes of a few small cottages. Beyond them lay a rock-strewn shoreline with waves crashing upon it, and then a seemingly endless expanse of blue-black water. A shadow darkened the doorway.

  “You’re awake,” Moric said. “It’s about time.”

  Jillaine. He tried to ask where she was, but his tongue was dry and cracked. All that came out was “Jill’n.”

  “She’s down in the village, getting to know her cousins.”

  Thank the Alissian gods. Quinn sagged back against the pallet. “How long?”

  “Since our run-in with the goldcloaks? About two days. You’ve slept the entire time.”

  “Then why am I still tired?”

  “You overextended yourself, which obviously can be dangerous.”

  Quinn tried to wave this off, as if unconcerned. “I’ve seen you do it.”

  “Because I know my limits. Because I’ve been practicing magic since before you were born. You, on the other hand, are like a child who’s found his father’s sword.”

  He sounds like Logan. “I’m touched that you’re so concerned.”

  “Don’t be. I’m concerned insofar as you’re one of my students, and a person that my daughter seems inexplicably inclined to spend time with.”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “I asked you to look after her, not run away with her.”

  Quinn sat up. He’d always known he’d have this conversation at some point, but he wanted his wits about him. He offered his carefully prepared response. “Leaving the Enclave wasn’t my idea. It was hers.”

  “Why?”

  “To search for you, for one thing.”

  “I was in Valteron. You knew that.”

  “I did,” Quinn agreed. “But you asked me not to tell anyone.”

  “So you let her go on a wild chase instead.”

  “She wanted to see s
ome of the world. She’d never been outside the Enclave.”

  “The Enclave is safe. You should have kept her there.”

  Time to push back a little. “She’s not a child, Moric. She’s a grown-ass woman.”

  Moric blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “If I tried to stop her, she’d tie me in a magical knot and leave anyway. How would that be keeping an eye on her?” Quinn spread out his hands. “So I offered to come along and help protect her. I figured you’d want me to.”

  Some of the heat drained from Moric’s cheeks. “You could have let me know of your plans.”

  Now he’s not angry, he’s offended. Quinn could work with that. “There wasn’t time. You know what she’s like when she gets an idea in her head.”

  Moric snorted. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “She was alive and well when you found us, wasn’t she?”

  “I suppose.”

  Quinn made his voice reasonable. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Perhaps. But she seemed overly concerned with you.”

  “When?”

  “In the past day. She never left your side, until I convinced her to go eat something an hour ago.”

  “Oh.” That was a surprise, and a pleasant one, but he dared not let it show on his face. “Well, we’ve spent a lot of time together. We’re friends.”

  “Do I look like a fool to you, Quinn?”

  Uh-oh. “Um, no.”

  “You worked very hard to win my daughter’s attentions, then you left the island with her, and now you’re friends.”

  He wasn’t far off the mark, but the underlying reasons weren’t ones that Quinn wanted to trot out right now. Still, I’ve got to give him something. “Maybe I hoped it would become more than that. But she’s keeping me at arm’s length.”

  That, more than anything, seemed to mollify the man. “Well, at least it wasn’t a total loss.”

  “Glad I could cheer you up,” Quinn said dryly. He rubbed his eyes and tried to squint past him through the door. “Where are we, anyway?”