by J. B. Markes
When no one replied Valora stood up and turned away, brushing her cheeks as she retreated through the exit, her private sentinel close behind. Those seated around the table turned their heads down in failure, but Gustobald was unfazed. He tapped his finger on the wooden surface, lost in his own world. He was twisting the braids of his beard, chasing a new idea, but quit the exercise to rub the jewel on the pendant around his neck. Its violet light pulsed gently under his touch.
Eamon looked from face to face awaiting an answer from his flummoxed council. "Get out," he said, his voice so low I wasn't sure he had spoken at all. The others must have had similar doubts, for they shook off their shame long enough to look directly at their king. "Get out now! All of you! Get out!" The room cleared in a matter of seconds, but he continued shouting long after he was alone. "Get out! Charlatans! Traitors all! I'll have your heads!"
Here I must pause to address the proverbial wyrm in the room, though it bears little on the story at hand. No doubt you assume that I have embellished my interactions with King Eamon the Unworthy. In both my defense and his, I assure you the sickness was growing inside him even then. His fate was inevitable, but I believe that the stress he suffered over the kidnapping—and subsequent murder—of his son accelerated his first steps into madness.
The members of the meeting each went their separate ways, with no discussion of what happened or where we would go from there. The king's outburst had given each of them something to ponder, and it was every man and woman for themselves. But I knew better. I had seen the familiar glimmer in Gustobald's eyes and knew he had a plan.
Chapter 11
As usual, Gustobald told me nothing of his plan. He appropriated Sentinel Chalke as his escort and disappeared as soon as he left the meeting. I felt uncomfortable alone with Lionell in the hallway while the king continued his raging inside. Finally, Inspector Raines took pity on me.
"Shall we take a walk?" he asked. "I think some fresh air might do us both some good."
I nodded appreciatively. Raines dismissed Lionell from his duty, but the guard wouldn't have it. He followed behind at a safe distance as we navigated the maze.
"Who is in charge of the guards watching over my every move?" I asked. "Is it the king's order or the queen's, or Master Xavier's?"
"No one is in charge of it. It's standard protocol in the palace. Of course, Seeker Celeste has complete authority over the First Sentinels, much like Seeker Arland and—well—"
"Seeker Reeves has the Second Sentinels now," I said. "I get your point. Seeker Celeste is naturally distrustful of us."
"The guards are for your protection as much as they are for palace security."
"It doesn't feel that way. How much do you know about the Seeker?"
"She's from the magic city. She joined the First Sentinels long ago on Archseer Bartleby's recommendation, but she's only been Seeker for a couple years now."
Long after I lost track of our path, we reached a series of staircases leading to ever widening hallways until eventually we came out into the open. It was the rampart of the Silver Palace, not much higher than the outer city wall, but a welcome respite from the close quarters of the inner palace. The God's Eye loomed far above, more forbidding than any mountain. I couldn't imagine anyone scaling it without wings.
"Actually, Seeker Celeste requested to go to the academy when Archseer Bartleby was murdered," Raines said. "King Eamon wouldn't allow it. His Majesty ordered me to come in her stead. But she's capable, one of those summoner types you like so much."
Raines gave me the guided tour, pointing out the districts I had already distinguished the night we searched the God's Eye. I counted the number of guards on the palace walls. There were fifteen in total, not counting the four sentinels positioned in the corner watchtowers that would surely have seen an attempt on the central tower.
"That clearing to the southwest is the Spur," Raines said. "It's where His Majesty's knights compete for attention in the occasional tourney. His Majesty himself has been known to compete from time to time. He was a great warrior himself once, unlike most kings of this age. To see that man on a horse is to believe in the divine right of kings."
"He's rather abrupt with those who are only trying to help him," I said, squinting to see if I could make out the horses at the stables not far from the Spur.
"It's true." Raines allowed himself a nod, but kept a careful eye on Lionell's proximity. "But he's a good king. Better, he's a reasonable man—or was. The crown takes its toll. It's done worse to many."
"What he said when we left—"
"He was angry."
"He's angry every time I see him."
"Speak plainly, Miss Ives. What are you trying to say?"
"If we fail—has the king ever executed anyone?"
"Not to my knowledge," Raines said, taking me by the arm and leading me to another set of stairs. "That is, not anyone who didn't deserve it. He often speaks without giving thought to his words. Please don't worry yourself over such things. You have my word you'll be safe. Now come with me. We should talk."
At the bottom of the stairs we reached yet another hallway leading to a number of small rooms. The Bureau of the Crown Inspector was smaller than I imagined, but comfortable. It more resembled a sitting room than an office. Raines removed his rounded hat and left it on a nearby table just inside the doorway. There were two associates hard at work discussing the brandy bottle they were sharing. They were big men, with tough faces made softer by spirits. Raines took their glasses and reprimanded them, bidding them take a walk.
"This is where you work?" I asked, passing by a small table in the corner with a haphazard array of documents, many of which were tables of data affixed to charcoal sketches of sinister-looking individuals.
"No, Miss Ives." He pointed to the open door. "I work out there. This is where I sleep or sometimes eat, if I have a minute. And yes, drink." He took a swallow from one of the confiscated glasses and winced. "Waste not. As you can see, I have the brawn, but I could use a little more brain around here."
"Are you trying to recruit me again, Inspector?"
"Never hurts to ask," he replied, placing the glass roughly on a table. "I looked into our dead man. Vaughn has been missing for two weeks. His cousin says it's normal when he's on a drunk. He expected him to turn up sooner or later."
"And what does that tell us?" Gustobald asked, tapping his pipe on the door post as he entered. "Any detective work, or did you just spend the day gossiping?" Gustobald had a package under his arm and a proud grin on his face.
"Vaughn and cousin are members of the beggar's guild, though Vaughn was no longer in good standing. I spoke to their administrator and learned several of their former rock biters and head cutters have turned up missing, as well."
"Former?" Gustobald puffed. "Do they keep such detailed tabs on their former members?"
"They do when coin is involved," Raines said. "The law turns a blind eye to them. For the most part, we let the guilds police themselves in return for good faith cooperation, which is what we're getting now."
"So, what is the play here, Inspector?" Gustobald asked. "A group of poor uneducated street-dwellers found the wherewithal to kidnap a member of the royal family? That's weak, even for you."
"You are too long hidden away in your magic city," Raines said. "Vaughn and company owed money to dangerous people. Desperation is a powerful motivator. Men of resources will always take advantage of it one way or another."
"We'll be chasing rabbits," I said. "None of it explains what Vaughn was doing at the God's Eye a week before the prince was taken. It just gives us baseless theories and more missing people to find. Meanwhile, time is slipping away on that ransom."
"Hum." The old man lurched over to one of the drinking chairs and fell back into it without another word. There was nothing more to add. It all seemed so random. We stared at Gustobald and waited for a flash of insight that never came.
"What's in the package?" I asked.
"Our dead messenger pigeon," he replied. "Tell me about the princess."
"What's to be told?" Raines asked, pulling the chair opposite the necromancer and beckoning me to sit.
"How about a story about twins that look nothing alike? I heard that's a good one."
"Twins don't always look alike," I said, but the inspector's face was ashen.
"Where did you hear such a thing?" Raines asked.
"Rumors are about," Gustobald said.
"Be careful what you hear," Inspector Raines said. "And more careful what you repeat."
"What?" I pushed the chair away and glared at him, but moved quickly to secure the door. "Are you withholding information from me? What happened to us working together?"
"It's not worth looking into. Do you think the king will look kindly on such an accusation? If it is true, he surely knows."
"Meridale is the spitting image of her mother," I said, lowering my voice. "Everyone says so. If they're not twins—if they have different mothers—"
"It doesn't matter." There was more than a trace of doubt welling up in the inspector's typically stern tone. "There is only one male heir. The laws of succession do not bicker about legitimacy in such a case."
"But the queen might," I said. "And if Jasper is never found—"
"The princess would be next in line." Gustobald was calmly blowing smoke rings from his chair. "Meridale would inherit the throne upon the king's passing. The first ruling queen in over three hundred years. I looked it up."
I crossed the room for the sole purpose of destroying Gustobald's leisure. "How can you be so cavalier? This could rock the entire kingdom."
"Now who's being dramatic?" he asked, petting his parcel. "I'm certain it's not the case. Just keeping the good inspector honest. It's obvious who the real culprit is. Been obvious all along really." When he didn't continue, I jerked my hands in the air to signal that I was still waiting. "Xavier, of course! Just look at him."
"This is serious, Gustobald!"
"And you have proof?" Raines asked.
"Besides his apparent inability to see the prince's future despite being a master astrologist?" the necromancer asked.
Raines shook his head. "The Sentinels' diviners have turned up nothing, as well."
"Besides his opposition to me at every turn since my arrival in the capital?"
"This is just your personal grudge," I said. "You're wasting time and energy on this stupid duel."
"Which is fast approaching, I'll remind you. And what are the terms?"
"I don't know."
"Still?" he asked. "You've had time to exchange fashion tips but not to work out the terms? I'm beginning to think your heart isn't in this at all."
"How did you deduce that, wizard-detective?"
The inspector cleared his throat. "I would remind you that dueling is forbidden by law."
"Let me handle it," I said, holding up my hand to cut him off. Gustobald seemed pleased with Raines's stunned silence as I ushered him out the door. "Thank you for the information, Inspector. We'll be in touch once we learn more."
"But this is my room." Raines was just finding the words to protest as I slammed the door. The office was calmer in his absence.
"Okay, Gustobald," I said, sitting down across from him. "Talk to me. What's all this about?"
"The homing pigeon? We're going to animate him. He might be able to give us information, after all."
"First of all, that's a great idea—and a little disgusting. And secondly, you know I'm not talking about the bird."
"It's a matter of honor, of course." Gustobald leaned back straight in his chair and looked up at the ceiling as if posing for a portrait. "A certain level of courtesy is expected between wizards."
"You're the offending party!"
"He offended me when he decided to leave me standing at the door like a common—doorman!" Gustobald pounded his armrest, releasing fireflies from his pipe bowl. "If I allow this, people won't take me seriously. I won't stand for it!"
"Since when do you care so much about what other people think? People have said and done worse to both of us back at the magic city. And, yes, it was bad. But it didn't seem to bother you so much back then."
"That was then," he said, resting his forehead on his fingertips with a sigh. He stared down at his pipe and shook his head. "I thought all of that was behind me. After all we've done, is it too much to ask for a little respect?"
"You have mine," I said. "For what it's worth."
"Do I, now?" he asked. "Last we talked you were all too eager to find a real master to train under."
"It's not about you," I said. "It's about me. I admit that when I came looking for you in the first place, I was being selfish. And not just with you, but with everyone who tried to reach out to me. I only cared about what you could do to help me. I understand now that necromancy won't save me and that terrifies me. So, yes, I'm still looking for someone to help me. But I'm your apprentice, Gustobald.
"I'm your apprentice, but first I'm your friend. And I don't want to see you get hurt in some stupid act of pride. So please tell me you will give Master Xavier an official apology and forget this ever happened. Be the better man, Gustobald. I know you are."
I waited for his response, but he just stared off into space as if he hadn't heard. His breathing was heavy and his robes were wrinkled. In the diffused light of the setting sun through the clouded window, I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked as ragged as I felt. I chased the sympathy from my heart and left him to his thoughts.
On the way out, I nabbed the inspector's hat from the table, unsurprised to find him waiting just outside the door. His look of concern deepened when I pressed his hat roughly against his chest and turned left toward the stairs, Sentinel Chalke making great strides to keep up.
"They day's almost spent, Miss Ives," Chalke said, motioning back to Lionell as we left. "Where are we going at this hour?"
"To pick a fight."
Chapter 12
Airlea wasn't in her personal chamber when I came knocking, so I tried Master Xavier's door and breathed a sigh of relief when no one answered. But I wasn't about to leave the situation brewing any longer, so I returned to Airlea's chamber and leaned back against the wall, settling in for a long wait. My escort grew impatient after about ten minutes.
"Is it true what they say?" Chalke asked. "About what you did at the academy?"
"I've heard a few versions of the tale myself," I said. "Strangely, the more unbelievable ones tend to be the true ones. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious how you succeeded where the Second Sentinels failed."
"It was nothing special. We just kept going after everyone else gave up."
Chalke leaned against the wall beside me. "Do you think we've given up on the prince?"
"I hope not," I said. "Do all of the Sentinels know about the prince's disappearance?"
"Of course. We're a single body. What one of us knows, all of us know. Everyone knows why you're here."
"What about outside the Sentinels?" I asked, sliding away from him. "It will be difficult to keep a secret among so many."
"Impossible. A Sentinel would never betray his king. If you believe that, you're not as smart as I gave you credit for."
"Maybe we've just met different Sentinels." I didn't bother pursuing the conversation. Sentinel Chalke was clearly in no mood to spend the night in a hallway. After about half an hour he realized I wasn't going to return quietly to my room, so he offered to take me to the astrologist's lab.
We received a few curious glances from the guards and dignitaries we passed along the way, but none bothered or dared to interrupt a Sentinel at his duty. As usual, I was lost within minutes. The corridors of the Silver Palace turned every which way, as if the original builders just made things up as they went along. After another five minutes of navigating corridors, there were no other people to be seen.
"Is it so far out of the way?" I asked.
"The
astrologists like their privacy, especially while they're working."
Eventually the clean decorated walls gave way to rough-hewn stone, giving me the feeling that I was in a deeper, far older section of the palace. There was a lot of moisture here and the air tasted like salt. After a few close calls, Chalke created a dancing light to keep us from twisting our ankles on the uneven floor. The flickering light created uneven shadows, and I walked slower for caution's sake.
"We'll be there soon," Chalke said.
When we turned the next corner I heard the trickling of water, though I couldn't locate its source. I could smell the earth and feel the immense weight of the world around me. I grew uneasy in such a secluded place. When Chalke started looking over his shoulder periodically to check on me, I whispered an incantation for darksight and loosened my wand.
In my transmuted vision, the lichen along the walls glowed in intense violet. I could see far to the end of the tunnel where the path stopped abruptly at a dead end. There was no way out save for the direction we had come. I slowed my pace to put distance between us.
"What did you say your focus was?" I asked, my voice muffled by the surrounding clay. "The First Sentinels in Astar don't seem to wear crests."
"I'm a conjuror," he replied, stopping abruptly when he noticed I had fallen behind. He turned to face me with an odd smirk on his face. "But don't hold it against me. I suspect that's why I was put on babysitting detail. No offense."
"Don't be silly," I said, watching his hands carefully as I let the tip of my wand slip down into my fingertips. "I heard the Seeker Sentinel herself is a summoner."
"That's right. We're the only two in Astar." He pulled one of the wands from his belt and tapped the wall. After a brief pause he walked through the stone surface to his right and the illusion dispersed into an open portal.
Even from the hallway I could see tables and bookshelves within, and I let out a quick sigh. I took a few deep breaths to settle my nerves and returned my wand to my wrist. I chided myself for being so careless, and made a silent promise to be more wary in the future.