Highlords of Phaer (Empire of Masks Book 1)

by Brock Deskins

  “How long?” Camron asked.

  “I wouldn’t bother even checking the dead drops for meeting times for the next month at least. For the next few weeks, we don’t exist. Highlord Nahuza wasn’t even hurt, just insulted. She’ll probably go back to Phaer in a couple of days. That inquisitor will likely push his investigation until the highlord stops asking about it, and business will eventually return to normal. Until then, we disappear and act the good citizens.”

  Camron grunted. “It’s against my better nature, but I guess—”

  A small bell attached to the upper part of the wall separating their room from the drinking hall chimed. It was a warning from the bartender that gendarmes had entered the establishment. The men around the table ceased talking and bolted from their seats.

  “Let’s get out the back,” Aiden ordered. “Split up as soon as we’re outside and disperse to the winds. No one contacts anyone for any reason until I say. Let’s go.”

  Aiden opened a hidden door in the wall and ushered everyone through. The passageway beyond was so narrow that Camron had to turn sideways in order to get through. Even then, his body brushed the walls and cleared away a fair amount of cobwebs in his passing. A concealed door at the far end opened into the bar’s storeroom and distillery.

  The men edged past the brewing vats to reach the door leading outside. The alleyway was wide. Several businesses used it to receive delivery carts. Packing crates and other refuse stood stacked against the building’s exterior walls. The dissidents burst from the distillery into the alley.

  “Halt or be struck down!” a voice called out from the darkness.

  Those men closest to the door tried to bolt back inside while the others made a break for it and fled. Crossbows thrummed and men cried out as quarrels pierced their flesh. Those not immediately brought down pulled blades Aiden had forged and prepared to fight. The knives were short and easily concealed beneath their clothing but heavy enough to punch through the breastplates worn by the gendarmes.

  Figures erupted from behind crates and streamed into the alley from the streets at each end. The dissidents knew they were dead men walking, the ones who were still able to walk, so surrender was not an option. The rebels threw themselves at the soldiers, stabbing their blades up beneath breastplates and at exposed limbs and necks.

  Crossbows hummed again and several battle cries cut off or turned to exclamations of pain. Aiden charged at one of the crossbowmen and jammed his blade into his armpit. He cast the man to the ground and sought out another target.

  He spotted Camron on the far side of the battlefield, swinging a halberd he must have liberated from one of the gendarmes like a farmer scything wheat. Bellowing like a rammox, he charged into the largest knot of soldiers and hewed into them with his poleaxe, ignoring the numerous cuts and crossbow quarrels ravaging his flesh.

  Aiden spotted a figure whose chest did not gleam with a polished metal breastplate in the feeble light and ran at him, blade held low. The figure did not raise a weapon to defend himself, perhaps distracted by the battle raging a short distance away. Aiden cocked his arm back to strike only to be hit by an invisible force and cast back against the nearby wall.

  Aiden groaned and tried to regain his bearings, but his head throbbed and motes of light exploded before his eyes. It briefly reminded him of the display Jareen and Sah Auberon had put on. He blinked away the scintillating orbs enough to recognize the face hovering over him.

  Quinlan balanced the metal quarrel on the tip of his finger, the broad head pointing right at him. “Ah, you are the one. You and I have a long and unpleasant conversation awaiting us.” He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Take as many alive as you can.”

  The battle was as brief as it was violent. There were simply too many gendarmes, and their ambush had been well executed. The soldiers marched or carried their prisoners to an armored carriage and locked them inside. Aiden looked around for Camron, but the big man was not amongst the survivors.

  “What do we do now?” Tanner asked. His fear showed through the blood caking his face.

  Aiden looked through the tiny barred window in the carriage door. “We die with as much dignity as we can muster.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dante returned early in the morning just as the sun was coming up. He staggered into the room and flopped down onto the bed next to Amaia, reeking of alcohol and smoke.

  “I hope you were successful in more than getting drunk,” Amaia said as she moved away from him.

  Dante tried to grab her hand and pull her back toward him. “Don’t run off.”

  She avoided his flailing hand and rolled off the bed and onto her feet. “No, you stink, and while your evening is just ending, my day is only beginning. Did you find out anything?”

  Dante moaned into the pillow before turning his head to look at Amaia through bloodshot eyes. “I discovered a great many things, premier amongst them is not to underestimate their sweet wines. They have a much stronger kick than one would anticipate given their flavor.”

  “I meant something useful.”

  Dante patted the bed. “Sit. You are going to be so proud of me.”

  The mattress sank down just an inch or so when Amaia sat, but Dante had to throw out his hand to keep himself from rolling into her.

  Amaia slapped Dante’s cheek in a flurry of rapid but soft taps. “Stay with me. What did you find out?”

  “I met with two councilmembers and a few high-level attendants.”

  “What did they say?”

  Dante waved his hand in the air. “Nothing terribly important. I worked in a discussion about the possibility of returning to Phaer and got mostly mixed responses.”

  “Why did you think I would find your report pleasing?”

  “I said mostly. Do you know Gaizar Viteri?”

  “He is a councilman and possibly the wealthiest man in the city.”

  “He is also one of the least popular people on the council.”

  “How does that help me?”

  “He is unpopular due to being a huge pain in the ass, especially the harbinger’s pasty posterior. He is very vocal about our beloved leader’s lack of vision and initiative. I swear if I had told him about the tempest waning, he would have had us and every slave at his disposal on airships and headed into the storm at this very moment. The man was absolutely fanatical.”

  I look of concern creased Amaia’s face. “Did you tell him anything about my meeting with the council?”

  Dante shook his head and immediately regretted it as his brain felt as though it were bouncing off the inside of his skull. “Not a word, and yet he practically tried to recruit me seconds after our introduction. I don’t think he even knows about a special session.”

  “He probably doesn’t. Mother and Father are surely conducting their own sensing sessions before approaching the harbinger to request an early convening. What else did he say?”

  “From what I can tell, we can expect as many as four to side with you and three against, not counting the harbinger’s vote, which is certainly going to be nay. That leaves three abstaining or undecided. Guess who two of those are.”

  Amaia frowned. “My parents. They have always leaned with the wind. Still, their votes would give me a majority victory, so if they sided with me they would be on the winning side.”

  “They are going to be on the winning side no matter which way they lean, assuming they vote the same.”

  “The key is going to be this third unknown,” Amaia mused. “If we can sway him—”

  “Her,” Dante corrected.

  “If we can sway her, my parents are almost sure to back me. Even if she goes against us, their votes will give me the majority. You were right, I am proud of you. Get some sleep. My parents and I have much to discuss.”

  ***

  Jareen returned to the palace to perform his duties with the oppressive weight of uncertainty and dread heavy upon his shoulders. Yesterday had been a catastrophe, but he feared that was just
the edge of the storm. Soon, the eye wall would crash over them, unleashing its destruction without regard to guilt or innocence.

  There was nothing to do but go on performing one’s daily routine. Duty was the definition of purpose. Without purpose, identity was an illusion. Without identity, one did not exist. Jareen existed. His family existed, and they would continue to exist for as long as he had purpose.

  Sah Auberon was not in his room when Jareen arrived despite the early hour. This did not bode well for his master’s mood. If he was so restless to have started his experiments without him, Auberon was certain to be of foul temper. Jareen stiffened his resolve and hastened to the laboratory where he found him leaning on a table with his chin tucked to his chest.

  It was apparent that the sorcerer had been working for some time. The air inside the laboratory was thick with pyrotechnic smoke. Several new scorch marks adorned the floor and walls. Given the bits of shattered glass and crockery, Jareen assumed his work had not progressed well.

  Auberon looked up and turned when Jareen entered. “There you are. What is the hour?”

  “Quarter of six, sah.”

  Auberon’s lip curled and he grunted. “I suppose I cannot chastise you for being late since you arrived earlier than usual.”

  “Thank you, sah. I knew you would be eager to resume your experiments. I apologize for underestimating your anticipation.”

  “It would not have mattered. I have not slept.”

  “You should have sent for me, sah. I am ever at your disposal.”

  Auberon stared at the floor and chuckled as he shook his head. “It was best you stayed away. In my mood, I likely would have caused you great harm and would have regretted it come morning.” He paced across the room. “The highlord actually made insinuations that my presentation was deliberately concocted as a distraction for that damnable assassin! Can you imagine? It was that rancid inquisitor who put the idea in her head, of that I have no doubt. The smug little bastard questioned me for over an hour in her presence.

  “Oh, he was polite and worded his interrogation so as to make it appear cordial, but I know exactly what he was doing. I am a close relation to the emperor! As if I would be party to such a thing. This is what comes of elevating lowborn trash simply due to an accident of birth. He is lucky the highlord was there or I would have painted the wall with his blood.”

  “I am sure the man will be very contrite when he learns the error of his ways.”

  “Oh, he will regret his folly one day, I assure you. I will see to it that he is the last of his bloodline to ascend to highborn status. When I become overlord, I will find a job suitable to his birth and disposition. I have noted an increase in the amount of filth clogging our gutters. Such would be a perfect task for him to undertake.”

  Auberon took a deep breath and waved his hand. “There is no point fretting about such things now. We have more important work to do. The chance for me to make a suitable impression this tribute is gone, so I must look to the next. Highlord Nahuza mentioned something interesting in the course of our discussion. It seems that they have discovered a boulder of pure void ore the size of an airship.”

  “A nugget of void stone that large?” Jareen asked.

  “Yes. Apparently there was some sort of accident in the mine. A collapse killed two of Emperor Arikhan’s most valuable advisors along with some other people who don’t matter. But the cave-in did reveal this colossal find, and I do not have to tell you how much the emperor is infatuated with void steel these days. This means that I will need to devise a truly spectacular use for my powder if I am to compete with Overlord Caelen for Arikhan’s attention. Thankfully, by the time his miners are able to exploit their find, this year’s tributes will be over. That puts us on somewhat even footing. I need you to think, Jareen. You are clever about these sorts of things.”

  Jareen bowed at the waist. “I am grateful for your faith in me.”

  Both men turned when the laboratory door opened and someone entered the room. Jareen recognized him as the man who had been walking beside Highlord Nahuza yesterday, the chief inquisitor. He saw at least four gendarmes through the open doorway, but they stayed outside.

  “What do you think you are doing, Inquisitor?” Auberon demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is my laboratory, and I do not tolerate guests.”

  Quinlan ducked his head. “Forgive me for the intrusion, Sah Auberon, but I must take your slave in for questioning.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind! Jareen is essential to my work and I will not have it interrupted with your nonsense. I can personally attest to my man’s loyalty, and that should be sufficient. It will have to be because if you do not leave my sight this instant, I will remove you.”

  The hairs on Jareen’s arms stood on end as Auberon began drawing on the arcane power in the air. While he had seen his master angry on numerous occasions, few were the times when his fury was so great that he was ready to lash out with his sorcery. Either the inquisitor was very brave or he was ignorant of Auberon’s strength, for he did not balk. Of all the sorcerers in the city, Jareen suspected that only Auberon’s mother and the highlords exceeded his power, and Auberon was likely one of the ten greatest sorcerers in the empire.

  “Sah, I am here by Highlord Nahuza’s order. If you prevent me from performing my duty, know that you stand against her will. As much as I do not wish to incur your wrath, I am even less inclined to displease her.”

  Auberon let the power dissipate back into the ether. “You might have mentioned it earlier.”

  “My apologies, sah. I will not make the mistake again. I can see you are a dutiful master to you servant, so if it eases your conscience, know that I arrested his brother-in-law last evening and have confirmed beyond doubt that he was the architect of Highlord Nahuza’s attempted assassination. Obviously, you can appreciate why the highlord and I would like to speak with Jareen.”

  Auberon’s face drained of color before flashing scarlet. “Jareen, is this true?”

  Jareen fought the terror gripping his heart. “I…I do not know anything about this, sah. I swear it. Whatever that fool Aiden has done, I played no part and had no foreknowledge of it.”

  “For both our sakes, you had best speak true. Go with the inquisitor and speak nothing but the truth so that we can put this ugly mess behind us and get on with our work.”

  Jareen nodded. “Yes, sah.”

  Quinlan looked Jareen up and down. “I trust I do not need to put you in manacles?”

  “No, inquisitor. You have my full cooperation.”

  “Very well.”

  Quinlan extended an arm toward the door, and Jareen preceded the inquisitor out of the room. Once outside, the four gendarmes surrounded him and marched him to his fate.

  ***

  Amaia found her parents later that afternoon in the main sitting room. She beckoned a slave to pour her some tea and sat across from them.

  “Have you relayed my appeal to the harbinger?” she asked, then sipped her tea.

  “We have,” Osane replied. “As expected, he is wary of your conclusions but has agreed to call a special session on the morrow.”

  “What about the both of you, are you also uncertain of my findings and proposal?”

  Moana set her tea down on the table. “We have the utmost confidence in your research. However, we are not certain launching an invasion is necessarily in our best interest at this time.”

  Osane raised a hand. “But we are not opposing such an undertaking either.”

  Amaia nodded, having expected such hedging from her parents. “It is important that you support me. I believe that with your backing, we will win a majority vote.”

  “If such is the case, then I see no reason to block your proposal, but we must hear the council’s arguments for and against it before committing ourselves,” Osane said. “Surely you understand. It is a crucial decision and must not be made lightly.”

  “Of course, Father. I understand completely.”
Amaia set her half-finished tea down and stood. “Dante and I have an engagement, so I must be off. I trust you will make the right decision at the appropriate time.”

  She met Dante outside next to their rickshaw and climbed aboard the conveyance. Dante took a seat next to her and ordered the Ulec slaves to get underway.

  “The council is holding a special session to hear me out tomorrow,” Amaia said.

  “That is good. We expected as much.”

  “It will be better if I can secure a majority vote ahead of time.”

  “Let us hope our good fortune continues through our next meeting.”

  The rickshaw clattered across the city until it stopped in front of the lounge where Dante had met with Gaizar the previous night. The lounge was a cross between a tavern and a restaurant where notable members of society could congregate, drink, and eat away from the noisy, low-class bars catering to the common rabble. As it was midday, the lounge was sparsely populated, but a few of the tables were occupied and it took Amaia only a moment to spot those with whom she was to meet.

  Gaizar Viteri was a large man, overweight but not obese, his bulk a rarity in their society given the consumptive magic the Necrophages wielded. He sported a close-cropped black beard, another unusual feature.

  The attractive woman sitting across from him was only a couple of decades older than Amaia’s youthful century. Amaia knew Nerea Kemen by name and reputation but had never met her. She was a rising star in the city and the youngest councilmember by more than two hundred years. Nerea was known for her shrewd mind, thirst for power, and rapid ascension through Czernstred’s social ranks.

  Dante pulled out a chair for Amaia. “Councilman Gaizar, Councilwoman Nerea, this is Amaia Aldana.”

  Gaizar took Amaia’s hand by the fingers and ducked his head. “Dante speaks very highly of you. I find your studies to be most intriguing.”

  Amaia smiled at the councilman. “He praised you as well, Councilman.”

  Gaizar chuckled. “They say people of action naturally gravitate toward one another.”