by E B Rose
“You’ve made quite a profit off him, haven’t you?”
Olira raised her tied hands and wiped a teardrop off her cheek. She remained silent.
“Who did you sell him to, ma’am?” Quinner asked more politely than required.
Olira sighed. She hung her head like a dying flower; her brown hair concealed her face. “Three men, travelling north.”
“Their names?”
“They didn’t give me their names,” Olira said, her head still hung low.
“So,” Dienus licked his lips. “Three men stop you on the road, offer you three hundred and fifty Blues, which they conveniently carried on them, for a slave that cost you way less than that, and you still don’t suspect anything?”
“I did, but...”
“You know what, Olira Aryanna, I think you’re lying. I think you were well aware of the slave’s identity. But instead of returning him to King Kastian, you chose to make a profit off him. That makes you a thief.”
Olira’s head snapped up. “I am not a thief,” she said angrily. “I didn’t commit any crime. Please, master, I just wanna go back to my farm and my brothers.”
“Well, too bad,” Dienus smiled. “You’ve got neither a farm, nor brothers left to return to.”
“Your Highness!” Quinner gestured Dienus away from the woman. The lieutenant’s eyes were hard like granite. Dienus followed him reluctantly.
Behind them, Olira Aryanna was gasping. “What? What does that mean?” She asked.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
Quinner glared at him for a split second, but didn’t comment. “I will take a group with me to Kilrer and ask about those three men.”
“What does that mean?” Olira yelled. She stood up, but Sir Gennald clamped a hand on her shoulder until she sat back down. “Stop! What does that mean?”
“Great! I’m coming with you,” Dienus said. Finally, they had an excuse to go to a city. Kilrer would surely have several pleasure houses. Their visit to Aryanna farm had taken the edge off Dienus’s need, but he was still dying to get his hands on a purebred and experiment further.
Still struggling to stand up, Olira was panting frantically and yelling: “What does that mean? What do you mean? What do you mean I have no brothers left? What does that mean?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Your Highness,” Quinner objected. Dienus could swear he saw a subtle grin on the man’s face. “Your presence would attract attention. Someone might recognize you.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“What have you done to my brothers? Where are my brothers?”
“The Queen tasked me to make any decisions to ensure the success of this mission, Your Highness,” Quinner said matter-of-factly. “I need you to stay here with the men.”
Dienus took a step forward. His ears were ringing and he could hardly hear Olira’s hysterical sobs and enquiries. “You can’t order me,” Dienus growled quietly.
Quinner blinked. “Of course not, Your Highness. But I can order the men.”
All the hair on Dienus’s arms shot up. He felt like he was punched in the stomach. He couldn’t have imagined the subtle threat hidden behind Quinner’s words. He imagined the lieutenant ordering the men to bind Dienus’s hands and sit him next to their prisoner. No matter how much authority Inoeveth gave him, he surely wouldn’t dare touch Dienus.
Would he?
“I will enquire about the three men’s whereabouts in the city, and inform you as promptly as possible, Your Highness,” Quinner said. He wasn’t smirking and his tone was almost respectful.
“I’d appreciate that, Lieutenant,” Dienus said, barely moving his lips.
Quinner walked away to organize the men he’d take with him. Olira Aryanna was still screaming and asking about her brothers. One of Quinner’s men was helping Sir Gennald to hold her down.
Dienus gritted his teeth. He had the sour taste of losing a battle. He hated it. He needed a win.
When Dienus approached Olira, the farmer girl’s tantrum faltered. Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked at him with those begging, brown eyes. “You knew my name,” she sobbed. “You’ve been to my farm. Please...” Her trembling lips couldn’t bring out the rest.
Dienus leaned in, put a hand on her shoulder, and looked directly in her eyes. “I burnt your farm and killed all your brothers.”
He watched Olira’s expression with satisfaction. Loss and grief twisted her face. Her brown eyes lost their focus. She howled her denials, cried her pain, and thrashed her anger. Gennald had to pin her to the ground in order to stop her from harming herself or others. Dienus distracted himself from his bitterness by watching her, until he got bored.
By the time Quinner returned with news from the gate guards in Kilrer, Olira’s sobs had died. Three men and a purebred beast had been detained and released outside the city. They didn’t stop to investigate why the men were detained and by whom, though it was certainly going to go in Quinner’s report. Inoeveth would be intrigued to look into it further.
Their scouts found the three riders’ and the beast’s tracks outside the city. Quinner took the lead, Dienus right behind him, and they followed.
23
VALNAR
Lygor hadn’t slept all night. Valnar knew it, because he hadn’t either.
His prince hadn’t talked to them when he’d returned from his walk. He’d crawled into his bed, left their questions unanswered, told them they would talk in the morning, and closed his eyes. He only managed to feign sleep for a short while though.
Valnar had the first watch, and he’d seen the glare in Lygor’s eyes as he stared into the starry night sky. Halfway through the night, Lygor took over the watch and it was Valnar’s turn to stare into the dark and think.
He knew Beast wasn’t sleeping either; he was laying on his side, his body too still to be asleep. Ink seemed to be the only one who’d managed to get some rest.
Kiejain had listened - he was always there, he’d always listened - but he hadn’t shown Valnar any guidance. Which only meant Valnar had the answers in his heart, and discovering them himself was part of his test. Valnar had sought the answers all night long, but all he’d managed to find was a sleep deprived body in the morning.
They cleared the camp, groomed and saddled their horses in silence. While they loaded their belongings on the saddles, Beast stood up, stretching his sore muscles and preparing for another brutal day of running.
Valnar checked his horse’s straps one last time, put one foot on the stirrups, but paused, noticing Lygor just standing there, looking at the distance.
Valnar glanced at Ink, who just shrugged. He put his foot back down. “Lodi?”
Lygor snapped out of his thoughts. He looked up at the sky, looked at his horse, then walked over to the slave, standing right in front of him. A sense of dread filled Valnar, though he couldn’t identify the source of it.
“Twilight of Infinity,” Lygor said. Beast turned his head down. Even hearing the name had twisted his face with an expression of longing. “Wasn’t that the one where winning Beast got his freedom?” Lygor continued with a cocky smirk.
Beast kept his eyes on the ground. He pressed his lips together, but remained silent.
“Is that why you were heading to Euroad before?” Lygor asked. “You manipulated Olira Aryanna into giving you your freedom, just like you’ve tried to manipulate me.” Lygor’s voice took a harsh tone towards the end of his sentence. The smirk had disappeared.
Beast’s skin turned grey. His shoulders sagged, making him look smaller in size, though he was almost a head taller than Lygor. He studied his toes, trying to hide the desperation on his face. Valnar felt anger glaring up inside of him, though he was glad Lygor could finally see the purebred for what he was and understand why he needed to be punished.
“Answer this one question,” Lygor pressed on. “Why do you even want it? I thought purebreds don’t want their freedom. Unlike freeborns, you’ve never had a life before. What w
ould you even do, if you were free, right this moment?” When Beast kept silent, Lygor switched to his commanding voice. “Speak.”
Beast glared at him, then he glared at Valnar. “I’d beat the shit out of him.”
Valnar’s eyes grew large. When he took a step towards Beast, the slave returned his gaze back to the ground. He was either feigning submission, or not caring enough to return Valnar’s challenge.
Lygor laughed. His laughter broke the tension in the air and forced Valnar to swallow his anger. “It’s a good one,” Lygor chuckled. “You’ve gotta admire the honesty, eh Valnar?”
Valnar scoffed and looked away, crossing his arms on his chest.
Lygor’s face turned back to serious. He chewed inside his cheek thoughtfully as he studied the purebred. “Last night, you asked me why I bought you. I tracked and bought you, because... You belonged to my father, and you belong to me now, just like everything else that was my father’s. I will not stop until I take everything back from Kastian Vogros. I will stop at nothing.”
The slave didn’t react, but Lygor didn’t expect him to. He licked his lips and continued: “Ever since we stepped into Chinderia, you are all what people talk about,” he said with a dash of what could be jealousy. “They never talk about how my whole family were killed in their sleep, betrayed by their own men. But they would not shut up about how Lion of Zarall went mad out of his loyalty to his owner. How he defied Kastian Vogros. How he defeated a wild, giant bear, unarmed and naked. Do you know how many times we listened to The Lion and The Bear at every inn we walked into?”
When Beast continued his silence, Lygor’s voice turned to steel again. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”
The slave shifted his weight and he answered quicker than he would have answered to Valnar. “No, Master, I do not.”
“Well, it was a lot,” Lygor said. “It’s a fun song, I’ll admit.” He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. “It must have been an epic fight, if it was only half as good as described in the song. Was it?”
Beast fidgeted with his sleeves. “It was a difficult fight. Master.”
Lygor nodded. He looked away and studied the landscape for several long, quiet minutes. The sun was painting everything in tones of orange.
“I’ve been away from Chinderia for so long,” Lygor spoke, as if talking to himself. “I doubt if people would even remember what I looked like. I’m nothing but a name to them. Certainly, not the name they would drop from their lips.” He looked back at Beast. “I sought you out because you carry my name. You are a symbol. A powerful one. And everyone knows it. I thought I could use you to gain the public’s support, when I’m ready to announce my return.”
Beast’s eyes swept the ground, trying to understand where Lygor was going with this. Valnar was as confused as the slave. Ink scratched his chin as he watched Lygor sideways.
“What good are you to me if I don’t even have any allies, army, or money?”
Lygor’s question hung unanswered, as the slave scowled and tried to figure out what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and mumbled, “I live to serve, I breathe to please. Master.”
Lygor nodded slowly. He turned to the others. “We’re going to Euroad,” he announced.
Beast’s head jerked up. His eyes grew large and his jaw went slack.
“Lygor...” Valnar started his objection, but Lygor cut him short.
“I’ll challenge Kastian at Twilight of Infinity.” He stared hard at Beast’s dumbfounded face. “You’ll fight and win. When you earn your freedom, you’ll stand by me. You’ll fight for me, as a free man.”
“Lygor, you can’t be...”
Lygor shut Valnar up with a sharp gesture. He continued talking to the slave. “You said Kastian was afraid of a riot. You’ll help me rouse the biggest one. You’ll continue to serve me, as a free man, until the day I sit on my throne. Then, only then, you can go and do whatever you want with your freedom. That is the deal.”
All Beast could do was to gawk at the prince. He didn’t even seem to be hearing him.
“Well?” Lygor prompted. “Do you accept it?”
“Yes,” Beast gasped. “Yes, yes I do. Master. Yes.” His knees were shaking out of excitement. His cheeks twitched as if wanting to smile, but he was still too shocked to even do that.
“We can’t simply walk into Euroad and ask to fight at the arena,” Valnar almost yelled. “If you think we’ll be safe because it’s a neutral city, think again. All Kastian needs is one single knife in the crowd.”
“You’re right,” Lygor addressed to them. Valnar didn’t like the confident smile on his face. “That’s why, we’re going to make a stop at Calae first.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Calae?” asked Ink. “Why?”
“Kastian thinks the lords are the only figures who have any power. He thinks he’s safe as long as he keeps them all under control. But there’s another player who can be as influential as any lord.”
“Strike me twelve times,” Valnar cursed, throwing his hands up. “Kiejain, the wisest of them all, give him some sense...”
“Who is it?” Ink asked, tilting his head sideways.
“It’s who are they,” Lygor corrected as he climbed up on his horse. “Domestic Assets Trade Union. They can be as big an ally as any of the noble families. And I know how to buy them.”
24
TESLATURAHEL
“Could you please start with your name?”
The man was dressed in the blue and grey colours of House Vogros. A bear coat of arms was engraved at the centre of his uniform. He’d propped his shield and sword against the wall near the door before sitting opposite Tesla and Prince Lotheris. He sat as stiff as if he’d swallowed a pole.
“Umm... My name is Kaemon Arnall, Master.”
“Relax,” Lotheris said. “You’re not in trouble. Adept Teslaturahel just wants to ask you a few questions about the night of the liberation.”
“Umm... Yes, Your Highness.”
Kaemon leaned against the back of his chair. He scratched his pointy nose, then crossed his arms on his chest. His face carried no more than nineteen summers. A short - and disturbingly uneven - stubble covered his cheeks. His brown eyes didn’t meet Tesla’s, but flicked towards Lotheris quite often.
Tesla leaned forward, watching the man’s face carefully. “What’s your favourite drink, Kaemon?”
Kaemon’s eyebrows twitched upwards and he blinked. Tesla noted these signs as the man’s surprised reaction, and remembered he didn’t show them when Lotheris explained this was about the night of the coup.
“Umm... My favourite drink?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. That would be...umm… honey mead.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“I... umm...” Kaemon glanced at Lotheris, then looked towards Tesla’s left. “I grew up in Varostan. Master. Adept.”
“Do you thrive under the light of the Twelve?”
Kaemon blinked and raised his eyebrows again. “Yes… Yes, I do.”
“What’s your favourite passage from the Twelve’s Book?”
Tesla watched the movement of Kaemon’s eyes as the young man searched his memory. “That would be... Umm… You shall not seek to be superior over another, for all thrive equal below the light of Twelve Riders.”
Tesla nodded. “What were you doing on the second night of last week?”
“Last week? I thought this was about...”
“Just answer the question, Kaemon,” Lotheris said with a sigh.
Kaemon’s brown eyes scanned the ceiling. “I think… umm… I just went out with a group of guys from my unit after my shift. We… umm… had drinks at The Polished Helmet.”
“Honey mead?”
“Uh, yes.”
Tesla took a deep breath and fixed all his attention at Kaemon’s face. “Tell me about the night of the liberation.”
“Right. I was fighting for the House Vogros, long live King
Kastian. Me and a group from my unit took the courtyard behind the servants’ kitchen. I saw a group of Vogros men heading towards the northern wing. My captain said we’d aid them as soon as we cleared the courtyard. Before we did that, we heard a loud cracking sound, as if something snapped. A blinding light filled everywhere. I could see the tower at the northern wing. Flames were spilling out of the windows on the top floor; blue and white flames. They covered the roof of the tower first, then I heard another snap, louder than before, and the flames trickled down the tower like a waterfall. They surrounded the stone walls and melted the whole tower, along with part of the northern wing, and all those good men. If we weren’t stuck defending the courtyard, we would have been in there too. It was horrible.”
Tesla leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest. “Thank you, Kaemon. You may leave.”
Kaemon blinked and glanced at Lotheris again. The prince nodded. Kaemon stood up, saluted Lotheris, collected his weapons, and left.
Lotheris turned to face Tesla. “I know what you’re doing,” he accused.
“Oh?”
“King Kastian said you can interview our men, not interrogate them.”
Tesla fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. After getting used to the long and wide sleeves of mage robes, he was finding shirts and pants uncomfortable. Yet, this was the arrangement they made with the King, so he was going to uphold his end.
“Each of the five men I’ve... interviewed so far have described the exact same events with the exact same words.”
“Because that’s exactly what happened,” Prince Lotheris sneered through his teeth.
Kaemon also hadn’t used any filler sounds, like umm, when he was retelling the events of the night. Yet, he’d used those plenty of times when he talked about what he did last week. Moreover, his eyes moved the same way when he was reciting his favourite passage from the Twelve’s book, but not when he was remembering what he did last week. They were all signs that Kaemon had studied what to say in this interview, even memorized it word for word.
Tesla rubbed his chin, deciding not to accuse the heir of Chinderia for lying. “I suppose you’re right, Your Highness.”