Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  “What did he want?” Kev said.

  “He tried to bribe me.”

  “Bribe you… with what?”

  “A way back to my old world,” Julia said frowning. Did Ascol really have a way, and if he did, did his masters know of it? “The book in the vault—”

  “What about it?”

  “Is it the only one?” she said and gnawed her lip in worry. “If it’s not—”

  “It is,” Keverin said firmly. “It must be.”

  “How do you know?”

  “If it were not, we would be dead. Mortain would have used it last year.”

  “But how do you know?”

  Keverin was silent for a long moment. “I have to believe it is the only one,” he said finally. “We have no evidence it is not, and more that it is.”

  Julia nodded. All they could do was have faith. “Nothing is certain, but I believe it’s unique. I believe Ascol sent Meagan to tempt me into a meeting with him—maybe to kill me. I have no reason to believe anything he says, but I do know he hates you.”

  “He hates anyone not allied with him. Moriz and Halbert are still your bodyguards—do you want me to assign Alvin and Gerard as well?”

  “No. I have my magic, and besides, they would be hurt by the lack of confidence.”

  Keverin snorted. “If they heard you say that, they would drag the entire guard after you.”

  “Don’t tell them!” she said horrified at the thought. “I’ll stay in the palace for the next few days. Gy will be on the throne by then and all this will be over.”

  “Let us hope so.”

  “Have faith in Halden, he will see it done.”

  “I have faith in the ultimate goodness of the God, and I have faith in you. That suffices.”

  She smiled. “And I have faith in our love.”

  Julia danced twice in a row with Keverin, but she sat out the next two and took the opportunity to eat something before dancing with Jihan. As with all his training, he danced to perfection. Lucius and Lysara were smitten with each other. Neither was interested in dancing with anyone else. Gylaren paid his attention to Jessica, and Purcell his to Isolde. Keverin spoke at length with one or two of the undecided lords and managed to win lord Horlen to the side of the angels. One more vote for Gylaren was helpful, but Keverin wasn’t satisfied. He went back to continue his battle of words.

  The night was moving apace now, but there seemed no end in sight. What had been another boring political affair had turned into a genuinely enjoyable event. Most of the lady’s were dancing, and even some of Ascol’s lackeys had succumbed to the party atmosphere. Maybe the breach between Deva’s lords could be healed after all. Once Gylaren was crowned, much of the animosity would fade. Julia hoped so at least.

  “—new town, lady?” Lord Horton said.

  Julia raised an eyebrow wondering what the Lord of Choma was after. He was a strong ally of Ascol. She had tried to persuade him to join Gylaren’s cause, but he had refused outright. He told her to make copies of the letters and distribute them far and wide if she wanted to, but he would never give in to blackmail. It was a shame he was her enemy. She rather liked a man who was willing to stand up for his principals. Of course, it wouldn’t stop her from burning him down if he tried to harm Gy or her other friends, but she did like him all the same.

  “That’s right,” she said. “It’s called Morton.”

  “That is what I had heard.”

  “Keverin ordered its construction so that those displaced from West Town during the war would have new homes.”

  “Paid for with Athione’s treasure?” Horton asked.

  “That’s right. What’s this about?”

  “There was a mine once…” Horton said seemingly feeling his way forward. “A coal-mine I heard.”

  “What else have you heard?”

  “That this mine—if mine there is, was played out. I have heard a story… but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Go on,” Julia said. “Tell me this story. Does it have a happy ending?”

  Horton looked at her sharply expecting mockery. Julia kept her features smooth not giving away her surmise. Horton was fishing for something. She could smell an offer of some kind in the wind.

  “This rumour… this story came to me through a merchant I have had dealings with.”

  “His name?”

  “He is a reliable man, this merchant,” he said ignoring her enquiry. “He told me this story, and told it as fact.”

  “Yes?”

  “He said the mine has coal in it again. He said a certain person magicked it down there—his words I hasten to add. Magicked, like it was fact. Know you anything of this?”

  Julia’s eyes narrowed. “And if I did? How would this be of interest to Choma?”

  “Do you know anything of my lands, Lady?”

  Julia shook her head.

  “Choma lies south.”

  “Yes?”

  “Choma and Chulym abut one another. Know you that?”

  She nodded. “I have heard of Chulym. Hard times have befallen it.”

  Chulym had been the home of the master swordsmiths. The city had thrived for centuries sustained by its quality metal goods, but King Pergann had destroyed Chulym’s trade with unreasonable demands for swords to outfit an army. When the guild refused him, he raised taxes and the price of iron from the crown mines in an effort to force them to comply. The smiths left Deva en masse, and Chulym collapsed into ruin. Chulym survived now by producing poor quality goods—farm tools and piss poor daggers that no one but the desperate would buy.

  “Hard times indeed,” Horton said grimly. “Chulym and Choma are as alike as peas in a pod. Chulym thrives, Choma thrives, but if Chulym falters—”

  “Choma follows?”

  “Indeed yes, Lady. Chulym is a mere shadow of what it was. With the Chulym trade gone, my lands have struggled to maintain a modicum of prosperity. I have turned to farming and horse breeding in an effort to raise trade. I’ve had some small success, but my people are still poor. My farms barely feed them.”

  “I’m sorry for your people’s suffering,” she said, and she was. She felt sorry for those less fortunate than Athione’s people, but what could she do that she was not already doing? “What has this to do with your story about a coal-mine?”

  “Ah… if you are indeed the one who magicked coal into existence, might you not magic up copper?”

  Julia frowned, copper? “I don’t think I follow you, Lord Horton. You wish me to make you some copper—whatever for?”

  “You misunderstand, Lady. Long ago—before the Founding even—Japura ruled all the land that is now Deva. They did nothing with it of course, they have plenty of land on their side of the Elvissan Mountains, but they did have interests here.”

  “Mines,” Julia said deadpan.

  “Exactly so. Copper is highly regarded in Japura, and not for the usual things like plates and bowls. Glass making is important to them and—”

  “Copper makes green glass,” she said only then falling in.

  Horton looked taken aback. “Yes, that’s right. You surprise me, Lady.”

  “I do know a few things about this world.”

  “I can see that you do. I have a mine; it still produces copper but a meagre amount only.”

  “And you want me to fill it up like I did with Keverin’s coal.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “I would be willing to p—”

  Julia shook her head and tried to explain. “You misunderstand me my lord—”

  “I will vote for Gylaren,” Horton said desperately.

  Julia shut her mouth and strangled the explanation before she could utter it. Horton was looking at her appealingly making her feel guilty. He didn’t know his story was false. She hadn’t made any coal; all she had done was find a seam missed by the miners. Could she find a way to do what he wanted? It might be possible, but the fact was she didn’t know for sure and certainly didn’t have a
spell ready.

  She cursed herself for a fool and told him the truth. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Lord Horton. I cannot do what you want.”

  Horton’s face hardened and he turned to leave.

  Julia reached out and stopped him. “The coal was already there. Your story is false.”

  “But I was assured by—”

  She shook her head. “Your friend was mistaken. The mine does have coal, but it always did. The miners missed a seam. All I did was find and point it out. I’m sorry.”

  Horton’s shoulders sagged. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

  “My conscience would not allow me to deceive you.”

  “I would wish more people had your sense of honour.” Horton inclined his head and turned to leave. “Good evening to you… my vote is for Gylaren.”

  Julia gaped and watched him rejoin Ascol as if he had never uttered a word about betraying the man. Was it betrayal to vote for Gylaren when the alternative was a mad man working with the kingdom’s enemies? Not by her way of thinking, but it was still double-dealing.

  “You look puzzled,” Purcell said coming up behind her.

  “I am I think. Lord Choma has just informed me that he will vote for Gylaren. What do you think of that?”

  “I would say he made a good choice, but he still courts Ascol. You’re sure he will take our part?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think he will.”

  Purcell stared at Ascol’s lackeys. “I wonder how many others would vote for Gy if they could do it secretly. What is Ascol holding over them?”

  Good question that. Julia pursed her lips in thought but this kind of thing made her head hurt. Horton had turned her down when she had tried to blackmail him, yet he ostensibly supported Ascol. If he wouldn’t respond to her threats, why had he responded to Ascol’s? Maybe Ascol had not threatened him. Maybe he had paid Horton for his vote, but with what?

  “Has Ascol any mining interests by any chance?”

  Purcell snorted. “He has interests in everything. His boats are everywhere on our rivers.”

  “Horton has a copper mine, you know.”

  “Hmmm, yes I know. It used to be a crown mine, but there were some collapses I seem to recall. Pergann closed it down and Horton took it over. It’s played out now, or so I understand.”

  She frowned. Ascol supplying copper to Choma didn’t make sense unless Horton was planning to make the glass himself. She knew there was a market for glass; Keef was a friend of hers and a merchant in East Town dealing in figurines. They often chatted about his dealings. The Protectorate was a big market for him, and although West Pass was closed, ships sailed to and from Tanjung and Japura with stops all over Waipara.

  She sighed. “I give up. I can’t see what Ascol offered him, but whatever it was, Horton seems to have decided not to accept it.”

  “Or he has already received what he wanted and now sees a way to rid himself of Ascol.”

  “Possible, very possible, but he doesn’t seem the type. I like him, Purcell. He sticks to his principles.”

  “He isn’t known as a dishonourable man,” Purcell agreed. “But courting Ascol and voting for Gy is hardly consistent with honour. I don’t know what to think.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Keverin gave up his effort of persuasion to join her and they spoke of inconsequential things—the food, the dancing, the music. Gradually their conversation turned to the future and their hopes.

  “—and I’ll coach her just like Jill coached me,” Julia was saying.

  Keverin smiled. “Ah, but what if we have a son as well?”

  “Then I will teach him just the same. Men can do it as well, you know.”

  “I’m sure. It would be a good way to strengthen the body for sword work,” Keverin mused. “Jihan hasn’t seen you on the bars like I have, but he did mention something about toughening up his recruits.”

  She thought it was a good thing Jihan had not seen her in the gym. He would have apoplexy if he saw her in such scandalous attire as her leotard! Jihan’s so-called recruits were the heirs to Deva’s lords. Jihan had been making them workout with practise swords mostly, but he hadn’t neglected other aspects of their training.

  “We will teach them to ride and hunt, and Jihan can teach them to dance!” Keverin said with a boom of laughter.

  Julia nodded seriously. “Both kinds.”

  Keverin agreed. “I would want our son to have Jihan’s skill with a sword. I could wish I had it.”

  “You’re no slouch.”

  “No, but no one bests Jihan.”

  “There will always be someone better, Kev. Let us hope Jihan never meets a man better than him.”

  Keverin nodded seriously. “No one in Deva is his master, I would wager Athione’s walls on it.”

  She grinned. “Athione without walls wouldn’t be much good. What would hold the roof up?”

  Keverin snorted. “Jessica will teach her granddaughter to sew and her grandson to paint, and Gideon will teach them both to revere the God. You will teach them of your world, and I will sit back and be proud.”

  “Oh no, you lazy beast!” she said laughing. “You will teach them honour. I would have them be strong, she especially—”

  “Any daughter of yours will be strong, my love.”

  “Perhaps,” Julia said turning serious. “This world is dangerous, Kev. I would have her capable of more than sewing.”

  Keverin nodded thoughtfully. “Jessica will teach her to play the lute and how to politic the lords so she may wrap one around her little finger—just like you did.”

  Julia grinned. “And then there is magic.”

  Keverin sobered. “The God will decide.”

  Magic wasn’t always passed from father to son, but it wasn’t unknown for a son of a mage to be gifted. Mathius’ father was a mage, but Lucius’ father was a wood-crafter and none of his ancestors had ever been mages. The God chose who would wield his power.

  “Let us dance one more before the night catches us,” Keverin said, and they did.

  Julia took the opportunity to speak with Horton before they left to find their beds. His consort didn’t like her. Lydia’s eyes blazed when Julia reached out to guide Horton to one side, and out of the path of those leaving, but she ignored the woman. She had something important to discuss.

  “What do you wish, Lady?”

  She wished for many things—peace and Gylaren on the throne headed the list. “I have been thinking about your predicament—the mine?”

  “Yes?” Horton said warily.

  “I cannot do what you wish, I do not know how or even if it is possible to—”

  “You are the all powerful sorceress,” Lydia sneered. “You cannot even magic up some copp—”

  “Be silent!” Horton said with a glare. “We will discuss your outburst later,” he said coolly before turning back to Julia. “My apologies, lady.”

  She waved that away. “I have heard worse things said of me, my lord. Do not concern yourself.”

  “Perhaps that is so, but that does not excuse it. You were saying about the mine?”

  “I’m still new in this world, Lord Horton. What I have learned to do, I learned through battle. The mine was a fortunate side effect of my wish to provide Morton with bricks.”

  “I see.”

  Julia doubted he really did see. He had the look of a man puzzled about something but unwilling to voice it. Maybe it had something to do with why a noble was dirtying her hands making mere bricks. Whatever it was, he did not explain.

  “I would like to offer you my magic, lord Horton. If you wish it, I will ask Keverin to arrange a visit with you. I can inspect your mine and look for deposits of copper. Like Kev’s coal, the miners may have missed some. What do you say?”

  “A gracious offer, Lady, and I accept. If you would convey my invitation to Keverin on my behalf?”

  “Certainly. I’m sure he’ll speak of it before we leave for home.”

 
“Until then,” Horton said and bowed before taking his leave.

  * * *

  “But your Grace! She’s a heretic!” Jymis cried. He couldn’t believe that after all they had done she was going to walk free. “We cannot allow her to remain unpunished!”

  “We cannot prevent it,” Patriarch Malvin said. “His Holiness has judged her innocent of the charge. There is nothing further to be said on the matter.”

  “But he’s wrong—”

  Malvin’s eyes hardened. “You forget yourself,” he said coldly. “The Holy Father cannot be questioned, only advised.”

  “But—”

  Malvin raised a hand. “I will hear no more of this. Be gone.”

  Jymis bowed stiffly and left.

  Demophon had told him that this would be Malvin’s answer, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. Demophon, no matter his power, was a heretic too. The necessity of working with such a man disgusted him, but what else could he do? The sorceress was worse than any ten sorcerers, even ten like Demophon!

  He reached the ferry in pitch darkness. He dare not light his way with a lamp or torch lest he be seen. It was imperative he not be. He climbed aboard and in silence was ferried across the lake. He had ordered a Red Guard captain to replace the ferryman this night with a squad of hand picked men. They knew not to ask questions, but it mattered not. The squad and their captain would be disposed of after they performed a certain task.

  The ferry bumped the far shore and Jymis left the same way as he had arrived, in silence. He quickly made his way through the city streets. He turned down an alley, but leapt back stifling a shriek of utter terror when a pair of luminous eyes glared at him. His heart thundered in his chest as he fumbled for his dagger. The eyes came closer, and Jymis sighed in abject relief. It was merely a mangy dog sniffing for scraps in the gutter. He kicked at it, and the cur snapped at his foot. Skin and bones or not, the cursed thing had enough fight in it to wound. He kicked at it again, this time landing a telling blow upon it, and it ran off yelping. He watched it go, then turned back to the alley. He was not at all happy about entering, but his duty to the God was clear.

  He stepped inside.

  It was so dark, he feared he might lose his way, but almost as soon as the fear grew in him, it left. He was doing the God’s work and would not fail. He ignored the squelching beneath his feet, and the disgusting smell that arose around him as moved deeper into the alley. Keeping his feet took all his concentration for a time. Whatever he was walking upon, made him slip and slide nearly every step. The fetid mess made him want to gag. He would ruin his boots, and what of his robe? It was his best one! How could anyone live like this?