Shattering the Ley

by Joshua Palmatier

  Allan turned, one hand still firmly on the railing, and scanned the crowd of partyers. He knew what was causing the ship to shudder: his presence. He was interrupting the ley’s power simply by being on the ship. He hadn’t ridden in one since he’d realized he affected them years before, had kept himself off of any duty roster that ended up on the flying barges. But he hadn’t had any say in the sudden shift of duty assignments that morning, and he hadn’t wanted to approach Daedallen as he gave them out. He hadn’t wanted to face the pure rage in the captain’s face.

  They were returning to the Amber Tower after a tour of the city, delayed because their sky barge had suffered some difficulties taking flight. The three other barges had left without them, three Wielders joining the crew to determine what had gone wrong, Baron Arent watching from the steps of the tower with pursed lips. But as soon as Allan had shifted away from the center of the ship, they’d lifted from the ground, the entire craft shuddering with the effort. Baron Leethe had made a snide comment to Baron Calluin as they breasted the glowing crystal dome of the Nexus.

  The rest of the flight had been uneventful, the ship trembling only occasionally. Allan made certain he remained in the prow of the ship, the individual districts drifting by beneath, his gaze mostly fixed on the guests. The height made him nervous.

  He tensed out of habit as Hagger approached, the old Dog smiling. He gripped Allan’s shoulder in greeting. “You haven’t moved from this spot since before we left the Tower!”

  Allan swallowed, tasted ash at the back of his throat, and smiled tightly. “Because every time I try to move, the ship shudders. Man wasn’t meant to fly like the birds.”

  Hagger snorted. “Man does whatever the Baron wants.” His hand dropped from Allan’s shoulder. “Noticed anything untoward?”

  Trying to relax, yet still on guard—Hagger and the other Dogs had treated him differently since the interrogation of Gatterly, but he didn’t trust it—Allan shook his head. “Nothing. Perhaps Gatterly was lying.”

  “Or the sudden changes made this morning in our assignments bollocksed things up for the Kormanley. But keep an eye out. And watch the Barons. We’ve still got the meeting and the dinner to get through.”

  Hagger wandered off. Allan flinched as the barge lurched, hard enough a few of the guests cried out, then laughed at themselves nervously or covered their gaffe with a sip of a drink.

  Baron Leethe smiled and shared a look with Calluin, the Baron of Farrade frowning and dropping his gaze.

  They approached the tower, rising toward one of the balconies instead of dropping to the ground where they had departed. The barge settled into place, bumping against the amber of the balcony’s railing like a ship nudging a dock, crew scrambling to secure it with ties. The captain released catches and pulled back a section of the ship’s deck railing while servants in the tower lifted a short set of steps into place on the balcony. Strains of music filtered out through the tall glass windows, along with the susurrus of the hundred guests already gathered from the other three barges. Allan could see ley globes bobbing in the heights of the tall ceiling, the white light mingling with the flickering yellow of candlelight, until the entire Great Hall glowed golden. The captain held the ladies’ hands as they disembarked, nodding and bowing to the lords. The Dogs and city guardsmen who’d lingered at the edges of the barge and served as escort during the ride departed last.

  When the guests had stepped off the deck, Allan moved forward, falling in behind Hagger. As he neared the center of the barge, it began listing to one side.

  The crew cried out, and Hagger and Allan leaped forward, jumping from the deck across the gap that was opening up between the ship and the balcony. Both tumbled down the steps to the balcony, rolling to break the fall, while behind the barge lurched again and straightened.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Allan glanced up to find Captain Daedallen standing over them, brow creased in concern as he stared at the barge, the captain cursing the Wielders as they emerged from below deck.

  Hagger chuckled. “Not for us. But the Wielders might have some explaining to do.”

  “Then come with me. The Baronial Meeting is about to be called and I want you two on the main doors to the inner chamber.”

  They both stood and brushed off their formal uniforms, entering the Great Hall behind Daedallen. Inside, the golden light was more evident, an immense chandelier hung with thousands of dangling crystals amplifying the ley and candlelight. Long tables laden with food—fruits and cheeses, biscuits and tiny sandwiches—and thousands of candles lined both sides of the elongated chamber. More candles were set on trays held aloft by the Wielders, like the barges outside. An orchestra played at the far end of the Hall, the wide space before it filled with dancing couples in all of their finery, while the nearer space was being set up by a hundred servants for the dinner service after the official Meeting. Allan scoured the amber-clothed servants for sign of Moira, but didn’t see her. He knew she was here somewhere, though, Morrell left home with the wet nurse. He hadn’t wanted her to come, but there’d been no chance of convincing the steward to assign her elsewhere, not with this many guests in the tower.

  He tried to suppress the nervous worry that prickled his shoulders and scoured the room for signs of trouble.

  The captain of the Dogs stationed them halfway down the Hall outside the doors into the inner chamber and meeting hall. A raised stage had been built in the center of the room, separating the dance floor from the dining area, the Barons’ table set upon it, Arent’s seat in the middle with the tallest back, the other seats arrayed around it. The stage stood waist-high, stairs on either side, everything draped in blue cloth.

  As Allan settled into place, Baron Arent stepped up onto the platform, the orchestra taking its cue and falling silent with a flourish of stringed instruments. Everyone clapped, those on the dance floor bowing toward the musicians as conversations broke out on all sides. The Baron let the talk continue for a moment before clearing his throat.

  “Attention,” he called, and with rustles and shushes the Hall fell silent, all eyes on Baron Arent, the tension in the air expectant, like a held breath.

  Baron Arent smiled. “It is time for the Baronial Meeting.”

  “—believe that the system is overtaxed. I no longer believe it is safe for the citizens of Farrade to use the ley.”

  Baron Calluin drew breath to continue, but Arent had heard enough.

  “Overtaxed?”

  The word came as a low murmur, and yet his baritone voice filled the austere oval chamber of the Meeting Hall. All of those seated along the length of the elongated table—all six Barons and the captains of their guard, along with Daedallen—fell silent at his voice, turned to look at him where he sat at one end of the table. His seat was elevated, so that he could see all who sat before him in the amber-and-glass chamber lit by the midafternoon sun. It was also situated at one of the foci of the ovoid room so that he could hear every murmur of conversation, every whispered word uttered by anyone sitting at the table. When everyone spoke at once, it became a roar, but he’d learned long ago to focus his attention, to pick out the voices he wanted to hear and to filter out those he didn’t, although sometimes he simply let the susurrus of sound surround him.

  But not today. Every voice counted today. Every word. Every nuance and inflection. The Dogs had been unable to break Lord Gatterly and the other Kormanley they’d captured, but he knew one of the Barons controlled them, the certainty in his gut. Someone had seen their potential for disturbance, for disruption, and had seized the opportunity. He intended to find out whom here, before the Barons signed the treaty regarding the ley system that would cede authority over all of the Baronies to Arent Pallentor and Erenthrall for another four years.

  And he did not think Baron Calluin was the traitor.

  “Overtaxed?” he repeated, leaning forward slightly, although not f
ar enough to be outside of the foci of the room. “Overtaxed how?”

  Calluin, who stood at his position, shot a glance toward Baron Leethe before collecting himself and meeting Arent’s gaze. Arent leaned back, satisfied. So Calluin was Leethe’s mouthpiece.

  “The Flyers’ Tower,” Calluin said, motioning with one hand toward the windows and the view of the towers of Grass beyond, his brow knit in irritation. “I am astounded by what the Wielders have achieved—the sky barges were most impressive—but at what cost? I heard rumors of . . . disturbances within the ley here in Erenthrall, but I did not credit them until my arrival here. The sky barge I rode in our tour of the city shook and quaked for no apparent reason. The crew and Wielders aboard appeared to have no explanation, and did not know what to do to repair it. I feared that I would not make it back to land safely!”

  The other Barons stirred at this, Sillare leaning forward to say, “My experience of the tour was quite different, the ride as smooth and gentle as a breeze. Perhaps it is not the ley or the tower that is at fault. Perhaps it is simply a flaw in the construction of that barge.”

  Conversations broke out, and Arent listened attentively, even though no one spoke above a whisper. He honed in on Leethe’s voice, but the Baron was merely verifying what Calluin had stated regarding the barge ride.

  “And then there are the distortions,” Baron Tavor said, loudly enough that Arent winced, and catching the attention of all of those gathered. He stood and faced Arent. “Not to mention these Kormanley priests and their attacks. Before I sign any treaty regarding the ley, I want to know what you intend to do about them. They have struck my city twice more this summer!”

  The Barons grumbled now, with a dark undertone that Arent did not like. There had never been this much dissension among the Barons regarding the ley. Not since he’d so bloodily and forcefully seized control of the Baronies decades before.

  He needed to end this now, before it grew to more than simple words. They all needed a reminder of who was in control here.

  He stood, everyone looking toward him expectantly. He waited until he had their undivided attention.

  “Your concerns are noted and appreciated, however they are unnecessary.” He faced Calluin, the Baron still standing. “The Nexus here in Erenthrall—the Nexus that controls all of the ley not only throughout the Baronies but the lands beyond—is not overtaxed. I have been assured of this by Prime Wielder Augustus.”

  Baron Leethe scoffed and Arent shot him a dark frown. But the other Barons were listening, even if they had not been convinced yet.

  He rapped the top of the table before him with his knuckles, then began a circuit around the room, behind the Barons who remained seated.

  “You forget that Augustus is the architect of the Nexus, the mind behind its creation and that of the network of Nexi that we have built in your cities and those of our neighbors. With this network, we have been able to solidify the power of the Baronies with the rest of the world. We have been able to seize our rightful place on the world stage, not only in trade, but in political power as well. Before the creation of the Nexus and the harnessing of the ley, the Baronies were nothing! We were trade outposts that the other nations passed through on their way to larger ports and greater lands, greater cities! Now, we have become great ourselves. Our cities rival those of the seaports and the other nations bow down to us, since without us, they would not have access to the ley. Our Wielders in their cities, sent to control the Nexi we have built there, control more than the ley. They control the very people themselves, the lords of the western Demesnes, the Gorrani and their sheiks, the trading houses of the Temerites, and the Juwari women of the Archipelago. And it is Augustus who has given us this power!”

  “That does not mean that Augustus’ claims are correct,” Calluin muttered.

  Arent paused behind Baron Calluin’s seat, rested his hands on the back of the tall chair.

  “Of course not. But what evidence do we have that his claims are false?”

  “The distortions—”

  “Have you witnessed one of them? Have any of you experienced one of these distortions in your own cities?” The Barons glanced at each other, Calluin’s certainty wavering. Leethe and Tavor glared. “I didn’t think so. However, I admit that there have been a few incidents here in Erenthrall.”

  “Including one in which a citizen was injured,” Leethe interjected.

  “Yes. A woman was unfortunately injured during one such occurrence. If you know of that,” Arent said, letting some of his irritation tinge his words, “then you also know that Wielders were there. These Wielders were attempting to repair the distortion and free the woman. It simply closed before they succeeded. In fact, we have Wielders on patrol in the city right now in case more of these distortions appear.”

  “Why are they appearing in the first place? Can you guarantee that they won’t begin appearing in our own cities?”

  Arent pushed away from Calluin’s seat and turned to face Tavor. “I can’t guarantee that, no. But even if they do, you have Wielders trained here in Erenthrall to handle the situation. These distortions are merely annoyances. Rather beautiful annoyances, actually. Like a sunburst of color appearing out of thin air, no larger than your fist. But again, the Wielders have them under control.

  “As for the Kormanley, I am certain you have heard of our recent arrests. We have captured one of their leaders, and he has been most forthcoming. So forthcoming,” Arent said as he rounded the table and returned to his own seat, “that I have unleashed the Hounds.”

  A few of the Barons sucked in a sharp breath. But no one moved. Arent sensed a new tension in the air, the threat of the Hounds hanging over all of them, the memory and fear of what they had done during the bloody battles fought by the Barons seventy years before tainting the air. Arent studied each of the Barons’ faces as he continued, paying particular attention to Leethe, whose eyes glinted with malice.

  “I don’t believe the Kormanley will be a problem for long. Not with the Hounds roaming outside of Erenthrall’s limits. Were there any other concerns?”

  The room was deathly still, until Baron Sillare dared to stir.

  Arent turned hard eyes on him, his patience worn as thin as spider’s silk.

  “Before I sign the agreement, I would like to broach the subject of building a Flyers’ Tower in Dunmara and the Reaches. Having the ability to soar over the rocky terrain of the mountains would be a distinct advantage for travel and trade.”

  Arent hesitated, allowing himself to relax. “I’m certain we can come to some sort of agreement.”

  He did not miss the fleeting look of disgust on Baron Leethe’s face.

  Outside the Meeting Hall, Allan fidgeted in position near the closed doors. As soon as the Barons had retreated, the musicians had launched into a new piece, the dance resuming as the conversation in the hall swelled louder than it had been before. He eyed the lords and ladies, watched them drift from position to position, taking in who spoke to whom, and who stepped aside for a more in-depth conversation away from the main activity. But spirits were high, now that the aristocracy could relax, with the Barons they owed liege to otherwise occupied.

  Yet a niggling tension still pricked the skin between his shoulders.

  Hagger caught his attention with a discreet gesture and motioned him over. His face was pinched with worry.

  “Have you noticed anything?” the elder Dog asked.

  “No, but something’s not right.”

  He nodded. “My hackles are up, too. And not because of the Barons’ disrespectful guardsmen.” He glared at the nearest, one of Baron Leethe’s men. “Let’s circle the room, see what we can sniff out.”

  They broke away from the door, circling right, skirting the edge of the dancers, but had seen nothing out of the ordinary by the time they reached the far side of the hall near the platform where the Barons would di
ne. Beyond, servants were frantically setting up the last of the tables for the dinner. Allan shook his head at the number of plates, cups, saucers, spoons, knives, and forks. They ducked into the kitchens opposite the Meeting Hall, the room sheer chaos as servants and cooks dashed back and forth, bellowing orders, pots clanging, the air heavy with the scent of roasting fowl and clouded with steam. Carts were already covered with plate upon plate of the first course. Hagger nipped a small roll, still hot from the ovens and slick with melting butter, and then they returned to the outer room.

  They circled the Great Hall three more times, the slanted sunlight slipping from midafternoon to evening, before the doors to the Meeting Hall finally opened. The Barons emerged, Arent last. He stepped to the front of the Barons, the lords and ladies of the Baronies shifting from the dance floor toward the entrance of the Meeting Hall.

  He raised his head and waited, even though everyone had fallen silent, then announced, “We have an agreement.”

  Cheers erupted from the gathered aristocracy, quickly turning to gasps as white light bathed the hall, coming from outside the massive windows overlooking the balcony. This was followed by awed delight as nearly everyone streamed toward the windows and the display of ley light that fountained beneath the tower below. The Barons moved with them, Allan and Hagger following behind. Below the Amber Tower, the crystal dome of the Nexus pulsed a pale blue-white, while all around it the gardens of Grass were illuminated with streams of ley. Men and women spilled out onto the balcony, some even ascending to the deck of the sky barge that still remained tethered there, seeking the best vantage point for viewing the land below.

  While everyone was distracted, the servants trundled their carts into the dining hall and began laying out the first course. By the time the lords and ladies grew bored of the Wielders’ work, the servants were ready with wine, others removing the carts to prepare for the second course.

  “The Barons are headed for their table,” Hagger said, tapping Allan’s shoulder to catch his attention. “We’d better follow. Daedallen wanted us close.”