by Kim Wedlock
"That's awfully deceptive for the Order - in fact it sounds like something we would do..." A brief twitch of a smile brushed his lips. "I'm glad I have you on hand, Teagan. But what was your point?"
"Perhaps you should go along with it."
He frowned, bemused. "Why?"
"Because the mage will stay more willingly if he is fulfilling his own task, and he'll open up a little to encourage you to trust him, which will make it easier for you to get information out of him directly. And, as we already know it's a trick, we can watch them while they're satisfied that they have us running in circles. They won't be looking for us over their shoulders anymore."
"Work out what they're doing, get a step ahead of them." He nodded again and took a steadying breath. Control was finding its way slowly back into his hands.
Now he just had to work out how to quash the invaders swarming into Turunda from both sides.
The Cockatrice was quiet, though that wasn't necessarily unusual for so early in the morning. But despite being less than three hours past dawn, Renan had already been there for two, sitting in his usual corner on the upper half-floor and drowning his perpetual sorrows in an equally bottomless mug. There were a few other vagabonds and drunks doing the same on the main floor below, but the city's most popular tavern was silent.
Though that was in part due to a subtle spell that curved through Renan's table and shrouded himself and the curtained-off room behind him, concealing from everyone else the heated discussion that was taking place beyond it.
He looked up as the usual dark-haired woman arrived, giving her a quizzical frown for her tardiness, but she smiled apologetically and slipped in through the curtain behind him. His attention seemed to fall back into his mug.
"Did he believe him?"
The blonde mage shook her head. "He got angry and stormed off. He believes the Order is trying to trick him."
"Perhaps they are - but this is a grave concern." Malson sighed and folded his arms over his fine robes. "The idea has been planted in his mind and we have no way of knowing whether or not he will heed it. He may not believe the mage at the moment, but that could change, and it's not a chance we can risk taking." He cast his sharp old eyes across the thirteen gathered, giving each of them a severe look. "We need to prepare for the worst. Move things into place.
"I will put word out to my contacts - I have many fingers in many pies, and the ear of countless authorities. Though many seem to be taking action on their own these days, I can rely on a few to turn a blind eye where we need them to. And while our own search is already in motion, it seems there's now a greater urgency. Initially we needed only to keep the elven relic away from him, but now--"
"Now we may have to use it against him," a troubled-looking middle-aged man finished.
Malson nodded. "We need to improve our resources. Should he succeed in awakening and wielding his magic, he won't be rational in its use. In the mean time, we need to do all we can to stop this from getting any further; try to ensure he doesn't believe the mage, and discourage him from pursuing it should we fail."
"Keeping him occupied is a good start," the man suggested. "Give him no chance to think about it. He's dedicated to his work - we can use that to our advantage."
"I can do that easily enough myself." Malson looked to the mage. "Vari, is there anything you or the other mages can do?"
She sighed reluctantly, invoking doubtful discomfort in a number of those around her. "We can't affect his magic, if that's what you mean. He's the one who has been unknowingly suppressing it, and he is the one who will awaken it. No one else can do it for him - which at least means that this mage can't, either. But what we can do is talk, try to push the idea out of his mind before it can take root."
"Could you convince him that the mage is lying?"
She nodded slowly. "He might be more likely to believe that if it came from another magic-user," she replied carefully, "but I'm not sure how effective it would be without some kind of proof. I think he'd respond better to the idea of a threat or a violent deception."
Malson's serious frown became intrigued. "Such as?"
"Suggesting that the process of learning to wield his magic would involve making himself vulnerable to the mage, giving him the opportunity to do something to him. He's a prisoner - it wouldn't be much trouble to imagine a motive."
"Salus is already mistrusting and paranoid. He'd certainly be receptive to that..." He nodded. "See to it."
"Of course."
"What if we remove the mage as a factor completely?" A young man asked. "Stop him, somehow - talk to him, threaten him. Even kill him if we have to."
"He's under constant guard, we'd never manage to reach him, especially not with only Oliver among the cell guards. Plus the breakers enjoy their job too much. As I understand it, they're in and out all the time. It's not an option. And killing him might be going a bit far at this point.
"Otherwise, we need to try to delay Salus, divert his attention. The rest of you will continue to work beneath him, follow his orders, but create complications. Keep intercepting his every communique, and start delivering reports more slowly - keep him in the dark, and..." he waved his hand lightly, "embellish them a little. Use the war as an excuse. He's expecting it to get in the way, but if it interferes enough, he'll put more focus onto it and distract himself."
"What if all this fails?"
All eyes turned onto another young man, and he looked back with the same doubt and discomfort he always wore in these meetings. He was phaeacian, and he was undeniably torn between his loyalties. Malson didn't truly trust him and often watched his wording in his presence, but he knew that the young man only wanted what was best for Turunda. He just didn't seem very sure of where to find it.
"If it fails," the old man replied patiently, the same question ringing at the back of his own mind as well, no doubt, as in others', "we should begin to consider a way to approach the Order. Should it get that far and we fail in our search, they may well be the only ones that can repair the situation. But acting upon that is a last resort. It would cast great mistrust over all mages in the Arana and no doubt result in their removal. And the Arana needs mages."
"Would you really risk getting the Order involved given everything else that's going on?" He pressed with increasing concern.
"You're referring to the incident in Carenna."
"If by 'incident' you mean the return of a monster, yes."
Malson cast a reassuring gaze across each of them. Most apparently carried the same concern. "I don't believe that Rathen Koraaz is a real threat."
"I can't fathom how you can possibly say that. He is a concern for all of us, not just the Arana. The country is in chaos, and a man like that on the loose could easily complicate all efforts against the war!"
"His movements are that of one man, Jora," the old man said firmly, "not the Order, nor any rebellion. This incident, as alarming as it is, is nothing more than an irregularity. And Salus will no doubt be taking action against it himself. It needn't occupy our attention, so put it out of your minds. We are too few, and Salus is a far more real and organised threat - do you disagree?"
The phaeacian straightened, but his eyes weakened in submission. "I don't. You're right. I apologise, my Lord."
"It's all right. I understand your concerns. It feels like we're trying to protect the country from its own people, doesn't it?" He smiled reassuringly. "But we will succeed, on all fronts." He looked across them all again with the same focused certainty. "It's early, but time is not on our side. I'm sure you all have work to do, and we don't want to arouse suspicion. You're all dismissed."
The thirteen turned and left the dark little room, managing to avoid the notice of anyone in the tavern despite their number. But the late arrival had hesitated, lost in troubled thought as the others brushed by her, and when she finally turned to follow, the Crown's liaison was suddenly standing in front of her, smiling sympathetically.
"You seem troubled, Taliel.
"
She mustered a weak smile. "Things are getting a bit complicated..."
"There are a few balls up in the air at the moment," he agreed, then turned his head curiously. "But it's more than that, isn't it? What is it you know?"
She frowned only gently, but even the very few and slight creases upon her face made her concern abundantly clear. She didn't speak for a long moment. "I think Salus is attracted to me."
The old man's grey eyebrows rose so high they might have flown off of his forehead, and an equally unexpected smile spread wide across his wrinkled face. He didn't seem amused, however, but genuinely pleased. "He listened."
Her frown deepened in confusion. "Sir?"
Malson shook his head and considered her for a moment, then lowered his voice to a guiding tone. "Salus was a child agent, and a prodigy. He was taken in as a phaeacian at age eight and became a phidipan at age sixteen. He was one of the few operatives to ever have been promoted at the earliest opportunity. His conditioning took incredibly well and he was promoted once again after further conditioning at nineteen. He was denied a childhood, denied an adolescence - which means that there are many, many feelings he has never, ever known, and can't hope to understand.
"Since his conditioning reversed and he took the mantle of Keliceran, he's been faced with the resurfacing of emotions, but they have only ever been negative and he's struggled to know how to handle them. Even now, after eight years, he is still vulnerable to them, and, lately, he's been increasingly and unnaturally temperamental. He knows only anger, suspicion and frustration. But having the chance to explore these brighter feelings might...introduce him to another side of humanity. It could help to settle him - maybe even finally get him to clear his head, see sense and just stop what he's doing. Love - even just infatuation - is, after all, essential to life."
She looked at him uncomfortably. "You want me to encourage him."
"I don't expect you to reciprocate any feelings, only to let him continue admiring you. It could do more good than you know. It could even provide us with a solution."
Taliel chewed the inside of her cheek before nodding, albeit reluctantly. "All right."
"How did this come about, anyway?" He asked with a more childish curiosity that would usually have been seen on the face of the rich and bored.
"I don't know," she admitted, just as curious herself. "He summoned me one afternoon, insisted that I drop formalities and said that he wanted to talk."
Malson frowned. "Talk? What about?"
"His dreams."
"His dreams?"
"He's been having trouble sleeping, and he's felt tense, stressed - not that that's very surprising."
"No, it isn't," he replied, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "And he summoned you specifically? You didn't just happen to be the next one to step into his office?"
"No, he summoned me, specifically, by moth. And there's been more: looks, strange comments - he apologised for assigning me to investigate some soldiers in the city because he said they were 'a bit rough with women'."
Malson breathed a brief chuckle. "How strange...how curious indeed. Well, it seems you have yourself an admirer, Taliel, whether you want one or not, and it couldn't have been more convenient."
"I suppose..." Then, she straightened formally and gave him a steady, obedient stare. "I'll see it done and do all in my power to make this work in our favour."
"I have no doubt that you will." He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, and his eyes softened sympathetically again. "And I'm sorry."
She smiled appreciatively, then turned and left the dark room. He shortly followed her out and found Renan still sitting in his usual chair, though he turned him an astonished glance. Malson simply shrugged as his own surprise returned.
Chapter 28
It was four hours from midday, and with spring having firmly set in, daylight was already three hours old. But though the camp had been up for some time, Rathen had only recently awoken. He'd slept soundly even as the rousing sunlight crept between the trees to streak his face, and though the others were restless, no one had wished to wake him - in part because the mysterious Kienza had stood guard over him all night. She remained close to his side even as they loaded the newly-acquired horses with the equally new blankets and bedrolls, watching him with the same soft smile she'd worn all night as Aria helped him into his shirt. The others had identified the nature of her vigilance early one, one of affection rather than concern, and respectfully kept their distance.
Except Anthis.
He chose to use her defence as an excuse to keep away while maintaining a very close watch from the corner of his eye. But far from signs of a monster, all he'd observed that morning was how startlingly different Rathen was in Kienza's presence. Upon first meeting him he'd been cold, disinterested in any kind of interaction and extremely uncomfortable in almost every setting - though the reason for his social anxiety was now quite screamingly apparent. But once he'd adjusted to Anthis's company...well, he was still cold and disinterested, but from time to time a human being flashed through that exterior, and those flashes grew into a warm and welcoming flame when he interacted with Aria.
But when Kienza was added into the equation, his unapproachable shell disintegrated and that welcoming flame became a steadily burning hearth fire. He smiled, he laughed, he loved, his unwavering melancholy forgotten. It was as if he was a normal person, part of an ordinary family - though, considering the three individuals, that was probably stretching the term 'ordinary' to its limits...
Anthis quickly diverted his gaze as Kienza turned around, stepping away from Rathen for the first time in twelve hours to wander quietly off into the forest. He made a show of moving to the other side of his horse and fiddling with his bags, lifting his gaze back over only once she was gone to watch Rathen stare thoughtfully after her. His expression was similarly ordinary, one of someone absently pondering the unquestionable affection of their lover.
The sight unsettled Anthis all the more. How could anyone look past his monstrous revelation so easily?! Garon seemed to accept it as little more than an inconvenience, while Petra...of all people, Petra should have had the hardest time even just tolerating him after the nature of her confession last night, but instead it seemed to have created some twisted sort of bond between them! It utterly boggled his mind!
As if hearing her name in his thoughts, Petra suddenly appeared on the other side of the horse, perfectly blocking his view. His eyes slowly dragged up to her, and her steady, critical stare coaxed a wave of guilt. She must have been reading his thoughts. Or perhaps it was his face. He became aware of the knot in his brow and the unbridled mistrusting curl of his lip and forced them both to loosen.
"It's not something he's in control of," she told him pointedly, confirming his suspicions as she moved around beside him, her hands resting disapprovingly on her hips. "And especially not proud of. It's just a part of who he is - most people carry a dark shadow through their life, his is just darker than most."
"Well, I don't like it," he replied, trying to ignore the childishly stubborn note that had slipped out with it. "He could easily have killed us without a moment's notice, and he kept that to himself. I thought I was getting to know him, but that...he's been deceiving us all along."
"Secrets will do that." She sighed wearily, then cast him a sidelong glance. "I trust him. And I trust Garon's judgement. Perhaps you should just talk to him about it. I doubt avoiding him is going to help either of you. Or me. I can only just handle the atmosphere Garon creates." Her eyes trailed off towards the inquisitor as he stared ever-watchfully into the forest.
Anthis noticed her gaze soften as she considered him and felt a small spark of jealousy. "I can't do that," he said, shrugging it off.
"Why not?"
"Because it's so...personal..."
She looked back and flashed him a beautiful, crooked smile. "I'll bet that's never stopped you before."
He gave her a flat look
and was about to respond in protest, along with a few other reasons that needn't truly have been mentioned, but he spotted Aria wandering about and decided to swallow them back. He smiled as she lifted a long stick from the ground, looked subtly towards Petra, then held it to her hip as if it was sheathed at her side. He pretended not to notice as she then ran off in search of something to fix it in place with.
He looked thoughtfully back towards Petra as she adjusted the straps of his bags, but his next words were forgotten in a brief wave of panic and he quickly took over, shooing her aside and assuring her he could do it himself. "You were quite impressive in Carenna," he said, partly in an attempt to distract her from his abruptness. "That duel..."
"Thank you," she smiled modestly.
"Though there were a few close scrapes..."
"I wouldn't say that."
"He was going to kill you!"
She returned his incredulous stare with a sly and self-assured smile. "I could see what he was doing; I was in complete control. He was getting desperate, taking advantage of every opening, and he was getting clumsy in the process. The moment he stopped thinking and stopped concealing his movements, he'd lost. I needed only to make the final move."
"...What does that mean? You slipped on purpose?"
"I put myself into a compromised position knowing full well that he'd leap on it."
"Which he did, blade-first, and nearly killed you."
"I knew what he was going to do, Anthis, you don't have to sound so concerned. I've been doing this for six years, not to mention training with swords since I was a little girl."
"Well, it shows," he sighed, and a touch of bewilderment descended upon him as he shook his head. "And people fight you voluntarily. Are they mad?"
She grinned proudly. "Some even seek me out."
"But why do you do it? It seems unreasonably dangerous..."