Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists)

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  Bayan spun to look at Eward, but his wounded hexmate was barely able to cling to his ledge, let alone cast. Kiwani shrugged and shook her long, tangled hair in denial.

  Not wanting to waste a perfectly good opportunity, Bayan ran to witten Oost and pinned him within the stone blanket of Tegen’s Grave to halt his agonized rocking. He racked his brain for a way to ensure that the man couldn’t cast any more spells.

  Nothing came to mind. Even if he immobilized the man completely, the very act of breathing was a perfect example of the in-and-out wave of Water casting. “Bodies move,” he muttered. “The only way to stop him is to kill him.”

  Taban and Kiwani helped Eward make his way toward Bayan. Within his spell-coffin, witten Oost spasmed against the stone and moaned. Taban gasped and tumbled to his knees, clutching his head. Kiwani clutched at the wobbly Eward as half his support fell down and groaned in agony.

  Kiwani looked as helpless as Bayan felt. “What’s going on?”

  Witten Oost’s screaming stopped suddenly, petering out into panting sobs. Taban’s did too. Bayan turned to face the stone mound that encased his opponent, arms ready to spin out another spell.

  “Save me,” came witten Oost’s broken, muffled voice. “She’s trying to kill me.”

  “If you save him, you’ll save me too, like as not,” Taban said from his fetal position.

  Bayan shot him a look. “Greedy Dunfarroghan.”

  “Aye,” Taban panted. “Got it in one.”

  “Taban, Kiwani, I think I can handle him alone. Leave Eward with me. Can you two go find Aleida? She’ll need looking after.”

  “Aleida?” Taban blurted, sitting up straight despite his recent agony. “Where?”

  Lifeseeker clarified her position relative to his. Bayan pointed to the right, not taking his eyes off the stone mound. “That way.”

  Kiwani and Taban turned to look, as if Aleida were standing just behind them.

  “How are you doing that?” Kiwani asked.

  “Go find Aleida, hurry.”

  “No, I know you’re using an anima spell. But you’re already using elemental magic.” She pointed at the stone covering Ignaas.

  Bayan blinked. So I am. “Just go get her.”

  Taban and Kiwani jogged to the wall and spelled their way through the stone. Eward worked his way onto his knees and pressed a hand to his bleeding head. “What are you going to use if he wakes up? We tried everything we had—and it sounds like you tried a few things we probably shouldn’t have.”

  Bayan forced his jaw shut. The less Eward knew—the less any of them knew—the better off his hexmates would be. Bayan’s final option would guarantee victory over Ignaas witten Oost. And it would probably ruin Bayan’s life.

  ~~~

  Tala pressed her hands over the First Singer’s mouth as they lay in a heap in the first row of the choir. The singers, leaderless, quavered and hushed. “You can’t kill all those people! Some of them don’t even know they helped witten Oost! Doc Theo has been working against him since he first set foot in the Temple, but your song nearly killed him. You nearly killed your strongest ally. You must stop the song!”

  The First Singer staggered to her feet. She shoved Tala aside and straightened her white robe, now stained with drops of blood from her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was raw, shredded. “I’ll do what I like! We deserve nothing kinder than a quick death for aiding such a monster—”

  Cedric leaped to the dais and wiped his bloody nose on his white sleeve. “You’d sing your own suicide and drag us all down with you? Nae! I demand an immediate coda to this attack! The song must stop.”

  Liselot gripped the white cloth of her robe with bloodied hands. “He must be destroyed! If he is allowed to remain among us, he is a danger to us all!”

  “And if none remain to remember that danger,” Doc Theo said as he joined Tala, “then it can happen again. Let’s learn from our mistakes, from our close calls, Liselot. Let us live, so we can learn. We can warn the next generation of singers and duelists. We can tell the whole empire what happened. Then, after we’ve all passed on, they will still remember. They can still protect themselves.”

  He stepped closer to Liselot and raised his crystal. His toneless chanting healed her eyes and her raw throat. He lifted her chin with a finger and met her eyes. “What else do you think they ought to remember of us?”

  Everyone stood in silence, waiting. Clear tears spilled from the shattered woman’s eyes, washing away the trails of blood. “He used me,” she whispered. “It hurts so badly.”

  “I’m so sorry. What he did to you was wrong.” Doc Theo put his arms around the trembling singer and hugged her, letting her weep onto the shoulder of his dirty brown robe.

  When her tears stopped, she pulled back and faced the members of her Octet. She wiped her tears away with shaking fingers. “Margaretha, Kleon, Cigwe, please return the students to their towers and clear this area. The Full Choir is dismissed. Cedric, give me your crystals. You two,” she said to Doc Theo and Tala, “will come with me.”

  Tala and Doc Theo exchanged a glance as the First Singer opened a portal amid the chaos in the choir pit. After everything that had just happened, Tala had no idea where the woman was taking them. She looked through the bright oval and saw a long dining table in an opulent room. A dozen richly dressed people sat along its edges, eating and drinking. Or rather, not eating and drinking, but staring in surprise.

  Liselot strode through the portal, then looked back and jerked her chin with an imperious gesture. Doc Theo ushered Tala through, and the portal closed.

  The curly-haired man at the head of the table rose from his seat and gave the First Singer a cordial nod, politely ignoring her rumpled, bloodstained robe and her mussed hair. “You seem to need some immediate assistance, First Singer. May I inquire as to the nature of it?”

  “Your Majesty, may I present Chanter Theo Willemsen and his daughter, Singer Tala Salunga, who have brought to my attention an urgent matter involving the Headmaster of the Duelist Academy.”

  Tala’s eyes widened. She felt her chest tightening. The emperor! His Imperial Majesty Jaap voorde Helderaard, right here in front of me!

  “Doc Theo, it’s good to see that you’re doing better,” said the emperor. “And Tala? A pleasure to meet you.”

  Tala opened her mouth to greet him, and hiccupped.

  Traitor Savant

  Timbool broke the surface of the ground between the Hall of Seals and Sint Esme’s Second Tree—which Bayan had accidentally grown last year. Bayan halted his avatar at ground level, and Taban and Kiwani carried Aleida out of Timbool's back and laid her on the grass, then helped Eward out too. Ignaas witten Oost slipped out on his own and sat on the ground, haggard and worn, staring at nothing.

  Belatedly, Bayan registered the cries and shouts all around him. As he slid out of Timbool's seat and landed beside Kiwani, he realized they were surrounded by teachers and staff. Some stood and argued with one another. Others sat or lay down, tended to by harried-looking chanters. Students clustered together, fearful—yet even among their numbers, several lay groaning or sat panting for breath.

  “We should take care never to anger the Singers again,” Eward murmured.

  Taban stood next to Bayan. His face looked peaked, and his shoulders drooped. “The echoes of my spell told me this area was populated, but I dinna expect our welcoming committee to be half-dead.”

  Bayan scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Above, on the high cliff overhead, he spotted Kipri in his puffy wig. The eunuch waved a greeting. He was surrounded by both waves of newniks—and they all carried rocks. “That’s one way to arm students who haven’t learned magic yet,” Bayan murmured, hoping they didn’t throw those rocks at him.

  “Bayan! Bayan, thank the sints!” Tarin bolted through the students and threw her arms around him, then her other hexmates. “You were right about everything. I’m so sorry we ever doubted you—”

  “Where’s Calder?” Bayan interrup
ted.

  “Just over there, explaining to Langlaren. Again. We fetched him from Peace Village as soon as we found the steel nuts. Calder… well, he’s a little embarrassed. Doesna think you want to speak to him.”

  “Headmaster! Headmaster witten Oost!” someone called. The volume of voices surrounding Bayan and his friends shot up, washing over him like a tide.

  Langlaren and the class instructors tried to keep everyone back, but Diantha waved a crystal in Instructor Ithrakis’ face and barged through. The chanter ran to the prone Aleida and knelt by her side. Her voice carried confusion and tension as she asked, “What is she doing here?”

  “Ignaas kidnapped her the day she left campus,” Bayan said.

  The healer’s eyes flicked to the quiescent headmaster. “Is he… home?”

  Bayan grinned, but apparently Diantha found his expression frightening. She turned away and chanted over Aleida.

  Langlaren strode up, sideburns bristling. “Will someone please tell me what in all the sints is going on here?”

  Bayan turned to face him. “How much did Calder and Tarin tell you?”

  When Langlaren responded that he had only been able to make out some jumbled accusations of faking a Master Duelist test and possession of steel, Bayan frowned in thought. “Maybe I’d better let Ignaas speak for himself.”

  Langlaren gave him an odd look. “What have you done to him?”

  Before Bayan could decide how to answer that question, a singer’s portal opened two strides away. The crowd, already murmuring over Bayan’s sudden appearance, gasped and muttered even louder. Bayan saw a dozen Imperial Duelists jog out, arms raised in guarded positions. They fanned out, creating a half-circle around the portal’s entrance. Tala and Doc Theo stepped through behind them. Bayan grinned as he spotted the crystals in her hands. Two more figures stepped onto Academy grounds. One was a familiar figure: Emperor Jaap voorde Helderaard. Though he didn’t know the woman with him, Bayan guessed by her embroidered white robe that she was the First Singer. His eyebrows rose in surprise at the woman’s rumpled, bloodied appearance.

  Tala pointed to Bayan. “There he is.”

  “We’ll talk about your unauthorized portaling later,” the First Singer said to her.

  Bayan smiled in relief. Tala and Doc Theo had survived and succeeded.

  “He’s not dangerous, your majesty,” Bayan called. The emperor eyed the seated headmaster with caution, then waved two of his guards forward as he approached. He shared a brief greeting with Langlaren and spoke to Bayan. “I meet you again, young duelist, when it seems my empire is in danger. Will I have to fend off you yourself next?”

  “I’m sorry, Sire. I was only trying to find out who kidnapped my hexmate. This is where it led.”

  Jaap’s eyebrows rose, and his gaze slid to witten Oost. “You’re telling me that the headmaster kidnapped a student?”

  “Well, he wasn’t headmaster yet, but yes, he did. It’ll make a lot more sense if he explains it himself. Ignaas,” Bayan said. “Get up.”

  The headmaster stood with alacrity.

  “Tell us your plan to rule the empire. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

  Ignaas seemed to become aware of his audience as if waking from a dream. He turned to face the emperor and Langlaren. “I’ve always been meant to rule. It was my gift, you see, to know more than everyone else, to know what to do with all that knowledge. I couldn’t let it pass. The sint near my childhood village told me that one day I would shine more brightly than the sun. I was always destined for power. I was the only one not surprised when I began to manifest magic. I knew I would be strong, for I was a Duelist Savant. As I left my hexmates behind test after test, I felt that my destiny was to be the next Master Duelist. I believed that was the key to the sint’s prophecy. When I seemed too weak to attempt the Master test, I felt cheated, lied to, by the sint. I swore never to speak to one again.

  “And then, deliverance, in the form of landing the position of hexmagic instructor here on campus. All the best and brightest at my fingertips! I sent them out into the world with my philosophy riding in their minds. I kept in touch with them, offering favors and gifts. And they responded. Over the years, hundreds of students have passed from my classes into the empire and made their own information webs. They share every little tidbit in the empire with me. I know everything.

  “Yet, knowledge is never enough. I did not possess the respect I required for my efforts. Finally, I decided that what the empire needed was not necessarily a true Master Duelist, but someone they believed possessed such skill. After decades of searching, I found the glorious repository of knowledge hidden deep in the bowels of the Periorion at the Temple of Ten Thousand Harmonies. In order to keep my visits to those ancient pages secret, I enlisted the aid of the First Singer. It was difficult. She was set in her ways. I had to pretend to love her to break through her mistrust of my motives. It worked, and she came to believe in my vision. Especially the part where I altered my plans to include the Singers. An empire that possesses magic should be ruled by that magic, I told her. We would take control together.”

  Bayan stood behind witten Oost and observed as his listeners heard the headmaster’s extensive confession: kidnapping Treinfhir; kidnapping Aleida for hearing his escape attempt; kidnapping Kiwani for seeing Aleida vanish into the mountain; and distracting Aleida’s hexmates from her silence by attacking them and leaving marks implicating anima magic, hoping to flush Treinfhir out.

  He even confessed to dosing Doc Theo with confusion potions and shipping him to the Temple to discredit him after he began to question why a Master Duelist couldn’t heal his own injuries. Lastly, he admitted that he had questioned Doc Theo in his addled state and stumbled upon the powerful secret of Kiwani t’Eshkin’s true parentage, which he gleefully unleashed in order to weaken the emperor’s support in Akkeraad, and released like a poison into Philo Sallas’ information network for widespread distribution.

  Langlaren’s brows drew down in anger. The First Singer looked both nauseated and ashamed. The emperor’s expression was one of disbelief. Kipri’s clenched fists trembled at his sides. When witten Oost finally concluded his tale with his offer of amnesia or death to his young opponents, Emperor Jaap spoke. “Bayan, why is he telling us this? Confessing to these heinous crimes before everyone? What have you done to him?”

  Bayan gritted his teeth. He’d known the probably cost of his choice, and he’d chosen to act. Now he would pay the consequences. Whatever they were. “It was the only way to make you see what he’s done. To you, to us, to the empire.”

  “What was the only way?” Jaap pressed.

  Tarin covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, sints, Bayan. Tell me you dinna.”

  Kiwani and Eward had the grace to look uncomfortable on Bayan’s behalf, but Taban smirked and said, “O’ course he did. And I would’ve done the same. He’s right, you know.” He addressed the emperor as if he were a childhood confidante. “It was the only way. Witten Oost would’ve killed us, else. He lorded our fates over us.”

  A worried frown wrinkled the emperor’s brow. “I’m afraid I’m still missing a critical fact or two.”

  Bayan straightened his spine. “Ignaas. Tell the emperor what I have done to you, and why.”

  “This young upstart has dared to attack my person with anima magic, your majesty. He is controlling my every move with it, in direct violation of our rules, and apparently of anima casters’ rules as well, or so this unholy bond between us informs me. He knows it is anathema, and he uses it anyway. Because I would indeed have killed him, and all his hexmates, to keep my secret safe. He does this abomination alone, your majesty. He told no one of his intent or capability to control another person. I can only assume this is some form of protection for his hexmates, that they will not be punished as he expects to be.”

  While witten Oost spoke, everyone but Bayan took several steps back. Their expressions changed to disgust and revulsion.

  Kiw
ani let out a horrified sob. “Bayan, what have you done?”

  “I saved you. I saved you all. If I hadn’t bonded with him, he’d have overpowered us. I had no other choice. I’m sorry. But please understand: I learned something amazing while we battled him. Anima magic and elemental magic are nearly identical. Anyone who can use one can learn to use the other. I’ve been hexing them both all along, controlling Ignaas and sustaining Timbool.”

  “He dares to brag of this enormity?” Langlaren muttered.

  Ay, Bhattara. This revelation is the most important thing I’ve learned since I asked Sint Koos for more knowledge of duelism—but will anyone listen? “No, not bragging. Explaining. What I’ve learned from the anima caster Ignaas kidnapped has shown me that the two magics are one. It’s possible to use both in hexmagic melds—”

  The crowd murmured angrily, drowning out Bayan’s words. “Best leave it, hexling,” Taban said. “You’re in enough trouble.”

  Bayan turned to his new hexmate. Taban had hexed with him in the underground dome. Would he see the import of what Bayan had discovered? “No, I’m not. Don’t you see? There will never be enough trouble to stop me from learning more about my magic. It’s a part of me. I need to embrace it. I need to explore it. This Academy is only teaching a small fraction of what’s possible. The book witten Oost found in the Periorion at the Temple of Ten Thousand Harmonies proves that. Who knows how powerful we could be if we only looked past our own arbitrary limitations?”

  “Teaching the hexmages, you are,” Taban agreed. “But now’s not your opportune moment.”

  Something drew Bayan’s focus away from Taban. He looked up toward the cliff face where Kipri and his newniks stood—some jeering, many silent—and saw a projectile flying toward him. His anger spiked, and he loosed it at the approaching rock. The missile morphed into a dozen rose petals that drifted to the cold ground at Bayan’s feet.

  A commotion on the cliff top pulled his gaze upward again. Sivutma pushed her way over to Tammo, punched him in the jaw, and hurled him off the cliff. The boy’s slingshot spiraled out of his hand.