Bianji eye’s widened. “Is it eight?”
Chapter 26
Balien waited until the girl delivering his mid-day meal left before taking a hit. A new shipment of fresh and dried poppy had arrived that morning, and he was eager to try the new batch. While poppy could be grown in most climates, the best came from Shalaban. Swallowed, the effects of pain relief came on after about half an hour and did not leave him with hallucinations. Those only came from inhaling the fumes, and he did not have time at the moment to try that.
He had no pain to speak of. The poppy made him invincible and mellow, and it made him laugh when he was injured. It was always easier to deal with the politics of the palace when he had internal armor.
He mixed various remedies as the poppy took him over. It was likely most people knew his hobby of naturopathy and thought it a silly thing, but those who knew the validity behind his work respected him. While he began years ago to help the servants in the kitchens who burned themselves, his craft developed to include open sores, joint issues, colds, migraines, anxiety, depression, assorted pains, and even indigestion. Every so often the ‘friend of a friend’ would ask for something truly bizarre, but with years of reading and practicing to support him, he usually had a remedy.
Using a mortar and pestle he grinded red pepper into the mix; a salve for pain. Halfway through the monotonous job, he remembered the meal left cooling in his adjacent room. He quickly downed it and went back to his grinding.
The servant found him draped over his chair, mixing the pepper into cream. He raised his eyes when the young boy did not take his tray of food and leave.
“Did…did you have the new mixture, m’lord?” the young man asked with his hands clenched together. He slowly shifted from one foot to the other.
Balien nearly forgot Nolen’s batch of calla lily was running low. “I have some.” He jumped from his seat and rifled through his study. The boy continued to shift from one heel to the other.
“What are you so excited about?” Balien asked as he dug deeper into a bag.
The boy grinned a gap-toothed smile. “The Star Breaker is in the kitchens.”
Balien raised his brows. “Mage Gabriel?” The boy nodded. “Why?”
“Mage Prince Nolen sent him down for castration. He did something wrong.”
“I think you mean castigation,” Balien corrected, and the boy nodded fervently. “What is he doing down there?”
“He’s Mistress Marya’s new pet.” He snatched the vial from the Prince’s hand, took the tray up against his chest, and rushed from the rooms in a gangly fashion.
Balien gave the boy a few minute head-start before making his own way to the kitchens. The main kitchens were in the east wing, taking up the entire lower floor and much of the basement. It took hundreds of people to run the monstrous undertaking, and one woman ran them all. Mistress Marya was old enough to be Balien’s mother though she was not as pretty as Queen Rincarel had been. She was a pleasantly plump woman full of smiles and was free to use whatever cooking utensil she carried as a swatter. She had mousy brown hair but took care to sleep in curling rags every night to give her short, thin hair fullness, and it framed the milky skin of her face nicely. Today she wielded a slotted spoon, wearing an apron spotted with red sauce over a stout cotton dress of brown.
He heard her laugh before he saw her. Her boisterous voice roared over clamoring of pots and pans. He spotted her easily through the crowd of cooks. She was tall for a woman and built stoutly to carry her weight. Her cheeks were red from laughing, and Balien saw Gabriel standing beside her with an abashed look, her hand on his bottom. She saw Balien and turned her attention to him instead.
“My Prince, sir,” she chuckled. “What a handsome bunch of gents I have down here today, unlike this sordid rabble.”
Gabriel’s hair was wet, and the side of his face and neck had been scrubbed red, but Balien saw the edge of his shirt stained brown with dried blood.
“What is he doing down here?” Balien hissed quietly.
“Why, he’s brightening my eyes, he is. Knows a thing or two about cooking, he does.”
“Marya, he should not be down here. This is no place for a Class Ten.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Gabriel said wearily and folded his arms. “Nolen seems to think he took my Class along with my power.”
“Rubbish,” Balien snapped. “Marya, I am taking him from here.”
“Oh please don’t think you have control over me, too,” Gabriel said tersely.
“I—I would never. I just thought you would like—”
“I destroyed the Moon Throne room today and killed about two dozen men and women,” Gabriel cut in. “Nothing would please me more than to be as far from Nolen as possible.” He gave a sudden gasp and his knee buckled. He flung out an arm and caught himself on the edge of a table, sending a bowl crashing to the ground, tossing beans into the air.
“What was that?” Marya asked urgently and grabbed his arm as the beans skittered across the floor.
Gabriel put a hand on his chest. “Nolen. What would you have me do now, Mistress of the Kitchens?”
She gave a barking laugh. “Why, stand there and look pretty for me.”
“Are you sure you do not wish to take refuge in my rooms?” Balien asked again.
“No,” Gabriel said with a telling look. His face was calm but his eyes were dark, his lips tight. Balien had never seen the look on his friend, but he had seen something similar in the eyes of the despairing.
“Pardon us for a moment,” Balien said to Marya, hauling Gabriel by the arm into a quieter side room where they kept root vegetables. Gabriel surprisingly did not fight back. “Brother, what is happening?”
Gabriel looked away for a moment. “I found my father.”
Balien’s heart leaped. Cordis had been the father figure he lost when his own father died in battle. He was devastated when the Mage vanished. “The rumors are true. Where?”
Gabriel met his eyes. “Here, in the dungeons. All this time.”
“How did you find him?”
“Nolen had him.”
Balien grabbed his own hair and turned away, stomping a circle. “All this time,” he grunted and flung his arms down. “Then what ails you?”
Gabriel leaned back on a basket of potatoes. He looked pale in the faint light of the storeroom. “I made a vow I am not prepared to go through with.”
Balien frowned. “What did Nolen ask of you?”
Gabriel took his time in answering, giving Balien fears for the worst. “My chastity.”
“There are worse things,” Balien offered. Gabriel gave him a look that said his statement was not helpful. “How bad can it be? Those beautiful women are willing come to your bed. As much as you have suffered with your binds, this probably is the least painful. Were I in your situation….”
Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “You dog. When did you lose it?”
Balien winked. “Ah, you were not supposed to guess that.” Gabriel kicked him in the shin and smirked like he used to do when they were younger. “A year or so back to a fair lady of the north. Her hair was like spun peaches and skin like cream.”
Gabriel smirked a little and nodded. “There are worse things.”
“I sound callous, I know, and we Anatolians stay chaste until the marriage bed. But that is because we would lie with every woman in sight after our first taste.”
Gabriel remained silent, but Balien knew there was more to say. “I’m bastard born, you know this, so what would I have to offer your sister if I came to her sullied?”
“Oh,” Balien replied in one long breath. “I see now.” He didn’t entirely. “I did not realize you two were so close.”
“We were getting there before Nolen pulled us apart.”
Balien smiled in spite of the dark mood. “My own foster brother as a by-law brother! That would be grand. I would have someone proper to hunt with at last, and someone to keep Nolen in line.”
Gabriel gav
e a weak smile. “Not with these,” he said and shook a wrist. “I don’t know if she would have me if I could not protect her.”
‘So there is the real root of your insecurities,’ Balien thought. “Only if she is stupid. Is she stupid?”
Gabriel gave a little shake of his head.
“Then you will have no problems. And, if she loves you, she will accept you sullied or not.”
“I need you to concoct me some tinctures. Something to make the Arconians fall asleep.”
“I can do better than that. I can find you some herbs that will lower your testosterone and help with impotence. You will have to buy me a day or two. Most herb shops do not carry such things, but start drinking spearmint by the barrel.”
“Nolen is sending someone tonight.”
Balien mentally searched his inventory. “I will make up a sleeping tincture, and I will send you up some strong corn liquor. Inebriation will prevent intercourse if you get drunk enough.”
“That’s something I don’t mind doing,” Gabriel said in a truthful tone.
“I will do all I can,” Balien vowed, searching his mind for solutions. There were many outlets provided by herbs, but there were always other solutions. He swallowed. “I will get started.”
Nolen slipped the copper control piece over his digits and felt a sudden rush of power flow through him. It was as intoxicating as a beautiful woman but more pleasurable.
It angered him to no end. Without the control piece he felt worthless, his power so far from comparable, and he found himself wearing it at all hours just to feel the throb of energies. The further he walked from the Mage, the lesser the power felt. He hated the Mage for his power, but being close to him was as intoxicating as the power itself.
The new power would make his ascension to the throne easy. He had been practicing the patterns from the book Ryker gave him. ‘If the Mage’s power could kill most of my Air Guard in less than an hour, imagine what I could do in a lifetime.’
Maps were spread out on his drawing table, the edges tacked down with candlesticks. The town of Veir was so small that most maps left it off, but he found a newer map with the little hamlet. It would be a several day journey by horse unless he convinced the Air Arconian to accompany them. After that morning, however, he doubted she would comply willingly. No matter. He had Class Ten power, and she had but Six.
As he studied the maps for any indication of the reported manor, he heard a faint bootfall to his right. He looked up, and Ryker Slade stood by the warm hearth, dressed in a long dark gray coat, and his trousers stuffed into his boots. The sudden appearances of the man were growing less frightening, but he still made Nolen’s heart catch in his throat.
“You honor me with your presence,” Nolen said and stood. “I have made progress.”
Ryker’s face was dark against the red light of the fire. “As have I. Y’ first.”
“My sister is in a manor outside this little town,” Nolen reported and pointed to the map. “She will tell me where I can find your Silex once I free her.”
Ryker clicked his cheek and nodded thoughtfully. “I should like t’ take y’ back to mine manor, as y’ have earned the right. If y’ succeed, my home will be yours t’ share, so y’ best come see what y’ are missing.”
Victory swelled in Nolen’s chest. “I would go.”
Ryker put his hand on Nolen’s shoulder. His eyes and hair turned white as his free hand spun the black pattern together. They shot into the black and white world and traveled for a few minutes before stopping in a manor.
The great room was bright, illuminated by four massive windows that looked out onto snowcapped mountains. Two hearths stood on either end of the room, surrounded by chairs and couches, and in the center was a long table where a decanter of wine sat on a silver tray. The dark wood of the floor was rich and polished to a shine, and the walls adorned with fortune in tapestries and paintings. Narrow tables sat along the walls with relics atop them: weapons, vases, models, a stuffed bird, books, and pieces of finery. The room smelled old, like a well-loved library, and the architecture was far different than the Fourth or Fifth Age.
“When did you come by this place?” Nolen asked as he stepped up to the window. From the view he could see two wings of the building curve around.
“Back in the Third Age,” he replied and poured two ivory goblets of wine. “She’s supported by the same patterns what hold up Jaden, so she doesn’t crumble with the years.”
“How have you not been located?” Nolen took the goblet. The vintage was strange and far dryer than a Dastanian red.
“Illusion-pattern,” Ryker smirked. “Hides the manor from any prying eyes, but no one comes this high into the Greynadaltynes.”
“We just call them the Gray Mountains now.”
The air was dryer and colder here, and Nolen felt the chill through the windows. He longed for the fire but would not show his weakness. The control piece on his fingers gave him no feel for the Mage who was so far east, and he slipped it off in his pocket.
“Y’ impress me with your gumption,” Ryker stated, his thick accent becoming easier to understand. “Y’ have a right t’ this manor, as much as mine Arch Mages did. This was their home—bar Maxine who took up her own ne far from here. When will y’ head out par your sibling?”
Nolen took a swallow of the dry wine and wished it was warm. “I still have not broken the Class Ten. I was hoping for another few days before we sidestep there.”
He expected Ryker to be reproachful, but the man nodded and took a swig of his wine. “I found something out what might help y’.” He motioned to a set of plush chairs by the fire, and Nolen happily took the one closest to the heat. “Your Mage’s Class was kept a secret because he was protecting someone.”
“Yes, he claimed it was a merchant’s daughter.”
“Ne quite. She was the girl y’ found him with, aye?” Nolen nodded. “Will y’ kick y’self t’ know was the Princess Robyn Bolt, your cousin?”
Nolen’s lungs froze. ‘She was there all along, and I never saw it.’ He smoothed a hand back over his curly hair. “I hardly knew her as a child. I did not recognize her.”
“What will y’ do now?”
Nolen smiled. “You said to kill everyone the Mage loves.”
“Y’ listened.” Ryker crossed an ankle over his knee. “Then y’ will find mine Silex.”
Nolen sat back and affirmed with a sharp nod. “When did you make the Silex?”
“Me?” Ryker chuckled. “I did ne such thing. It was made back in the Uncharted Ages.”
Nolen looked at him stupidly. “I am not sure I know of those.”
“Did y’ think we just appeared ac started counting the Ages? Ack, boy, your Age is a stupid one. There are five Ages we have written down t’ memory, but there were many Ages before what never were chronicled. Some quod there were five to eight Uncharted Ages, but there is ne way t’ know.” He wet his tongue with wine and clicked his cheek. “Madison Library of Jaden has books on this, why were y’ ne taught?”
Nolen shrugged.
“Nay, the Silex was made by six Class Tens back in the Uncharted Ages in the kingdom what is now called Aidenmar. Their names were lost as well, but some say the descendants still live. Y’ ever noticed how Aidenmarian men go gray early?” he asked and Nolen nodded. It was common for an Aidenmarian in his mid-twenties to gray. “It is believed the creators of the Silex went gray after it was finished ac have since passed that trait down through the Ages.”
“But Mage and non-Mage go gray. Can it be they bred the Elements out?”
“Aye,” Ryker nodded. “Much as this Age is doing.”
Something occurred to Nolen, and he fixed Ryker with a curious look. “Which Age do you come from?” Nolen asked.
Ryker smiled slowly, as if he had been waiting for the question a while. “That, Princeling, is a story par another day.”
Nolen sat there feeling foolish but dared not ask again. There was so much he did not know
of his own history that this man could illuminate. “Were the Arch Mages as dangerous as the legends say?”
Ryker put a brow up. “What do they say?”
“Horrible things like—”
“They speak the truth then,” Ryker replied and sipped his wine. “Class Tens, the four of them, brilliant ac dangerous ac cruel, right after mine own heart.”
“Was Maxine Flint really the prettiest woman ever created?”
“Is that all the stories talk about?” Ryker laughed. “Aye, boy, aye, she was the loveliest ac most dangerous beauty ever set foot on this soil. She used t’ keep fair men like y’ as pets in her mansion.”
“What of the others? Pike Bronwen and Evony?”
“Pike was the smart one—mine greatest Earth defender—a Creator as well. People say the Castrofax were mine creation, but we concocted them together. He even knew how t’ bend metal t’ his will, which is a right hard thing t’ do par any Earth Mage.
“Dorian Lark was mine destroyer. He could walk through a town ac leave it flattened in minutes. Right powerful in Air ac Fire ac Earth. He did what I told him ac did it right well.” Ryker paused and looked up. “Let me show y’ them.”
He stood and Nolen swallowed, following Ryker through the narrow dark-wood hallways and into an atrium where a dozen paintings and tapestries hung.
He pointed to a life-sized painting of a beautiful woman with cork-screw white-blonde hair and cold blue eyes. She had little pert lips and a heart-shaped face with a pointed chin. Her gaze was hot and her lips cracked in a welcome. The dress she wore was dark red and cut off the shoulders, synched around her ample bosom that pressed up, and around her neck was a gold necklace with tiny colored beads.
“Maxine Flint, the woman what seduced a thousand men.”
Nolen coughed. “A thousand? Legends say it was more like a hundred.”
Ryker guffawed. “Nay. She was insatiable. It was more like a thousand.”
The Castrofax (Book 1) Page 26