A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence)

by Hogan, Mitchell

  Vasile studied the man, whose head remained bowed, face averted from the light streaming onto it from a window. A deliberate positioning, as he knew. His gaze took in the crumpled clothes, lank brown hair, unkempt graying beard, and a number of rings still in his ears; on one hung a blue star sapphire. Spittle drooled from a corner of the man’s mouth. Meer Orlaith, unless he missed his guess. And it didn’t look like he had been having a pleasant night. But he still had his earrings, which meant his guilt was in doubt.

  The room had an obnoxious smell, and it was a few moments before Vasile realized Meer Orlaith must have soiled himself. Not pleasant treatment for Meer if they weren’t sure he was guilty. Whatever had happened, it must have been something significant, something that meant they didn’t care about the consequences if innocent people were ill-treated. Even a noble as powerful as Meer Orlaith.

  With a bang, the door opened again, slamming against the wall and narrowly missing the guard on that side. Meer Orlaith flinched at the sound. He lifted his head and slurped at the drool on his lips. Hollow brown eyes looked at Vasile then the door, through which limped the shrewd Chancellor Gelyn, leaning on his ever-present blackwood walking stick.

  Vasile and Gelyn appraised each other, then Gelyn gestured Vasile outside.

  Until a year ago, Vasile had practically lived in the keep, assisting Gelyn and the other chancellors. Once, he had even helped them with a problem the emperor had, on one of his rare visits. Then something had soured. His responsibilities had slowly been taken from him, and visits from the chancellors had trickled to a halt with no explanation, leaving him to wonder why. Eventually, he decided they were scared of what he might unearth.

  Gelyn sighed and rested his weight on his stick. “It’s good to see you again, Vasile.” He held out a liver-spotted hand for Vasile to shake, which he did after a slight hesitation. “It’s been a long night, and I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sorry to have you dragged up here without any notice.”

  “It’s no problem, really.” Vasile replied. “I wish I could be of more use.” Discard me like a broken tool then call when it suits. Now why doesn’t that surprise me?

  Gelyn’s eyes dropped to the floor then lifted back up to Vasile. “Of course, I understand. There has been much happening the last few months. We’ve hardly had time to draw breath, things have been so busy. Still, you are here now.”

  “It’s been almost a year.”

  “Has it now? My, my.”

  “I’m at your service, as always.”

  “Good. I heard you have taken a position as a magistrate.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s excellent. A man like yourself would be invaluable in the role.”

  Vasile didn’t respond, and an uncomfortable silence lengthened. After a few moments, Gelyn coughed discreetly into his hand. “Despite us… not calling on you more often… an unfortunate turn of events. I want you to know that if there is anything you need, anything at all, you can ask me.” The old chancellor chuckled, a dry rasping sound. “Not anything, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m being genuine. I…” Gelyn broke off and looked around.

  If Vasile thought the man wasn’t being serious it would have been comical. But he was serious. What would cause the most powerful chancellor in Anasoma to be afraid?

  “I want you to know it was the other chancellors and nobles. They have a great many secrets, and some of them bent the emperor’s ear before I could intervene.”

  “The emperor? But I helped him when—”

  “I know,” interrupted Gelyn. “But many of them argued that someone with your ah… talents… shouldn’t have access to the emperor and his business. That is to say, the chancellors and nobles’ business. You can see how they would be alarmed.”

  Not daring to speak, Vasile only nodded.

  “I know things have been hard these last months, but I’d like to think of us as still friends.”

  Vasile began to shake his head then stopped. The chancellors were too powerful a group to cut all ties with. He wanted to burn away everything from his past life, but some things were too valuable to let go.

  “I…appreciate that,” he said softly.

  “Good, that’s settled. Now to business. Your usual fee, and your silence,” Gelyn reminded him and held out a coin pouch.

  Vasile closed his hand around the pouch, face devoid of expression, and nodded.

  Gelyn glanced at the door. “Let’s see what our noble Meer Orlaith has to say for himself. And as usual, be discreet.”

  Vasile had been in this questioning room before, many times, and knew it was disturbing for some people. Especially for the person on the other side of the table. Many a guilty man or woman had cracked in here, and some innocent ones had too.

  Vasile sat while the chancellor fussed into a chair, leaning his cane against the table and spending a few moments arranging his robes until he was comfortable.

  Meer Orlaith stopped drooling and stared at the two of them, one eye puffed and starting to bruise.

  “Please…” he croaked. “Tell me what I’m supposed to have done.”

  Meer tried to swallow but gurgled then coughed. Though he was drooling, his throat was dry. Obviously drugged.

  “Please,” the prisoner repeated. “Chancellor, you know me.” He reached up with one hand to grab the table to steady himself. “I’m a loyal subject of the emperor. There must be a misunderstanding.”

  He slumped down into himself, as if his short speech had drained him of whatever energy he had left.

  “Really?” sneered Gelyn. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that phrase in this room? I’ve lost count. People with good intentions, people with bad intentions, and people with stupid intentions. Some people, well, they just can’t help themselves.” He sniffed. “Which one are you, Meer?”

  “I don’t understand. Why am I here?” pleaded Meer. His eyes rolled around, and he bent over, gagging.

  “It has come to our attention that someone has been running a smuggling operation into Anasoma. Some of the rarer spices and liquors, as well as wool. The emperor has imposed duties on these, as you know, but someone decided to deprive the empire of a substantial portion of revenue. Naturally, we frown upon such activities, don’t we?”

  Meer gave him a puzzled look. “You can’t think I have anything to do with this,” he managed to protest. “I’m already well off. What could a few extra ducats benefit me?”

  Chancellor Gelyn pursed his lips. “A few? More than a few. You’re an intelligent man, Meer. How much profit do you think a few boatloads of such goods a week would bring in? No taxes to be paid, why, I think you would be able to hazard a rough guess.”

  Meer frowned and looked at the table. “I don’t know.”

  “Guess.”

  “A thousand gold ducats, or two? Depending on the goods.” He drew a breath as if to get some strength and looked Gelyn in the eye. “But I know nothing of such a smuggling operation.”

  Lying, thought Vasile. It was written all over him, his face and his body.

  Vasile scratched his ear and tilted his head to the side.

  Chancellor Gelyn digested Meer’s answer then spoke. “You see, I believe you do know. I believe you’re a major player in the smuggling ring and you know who is involved.”

  “What?” Meer protested. “I assure you…” He trailed off as Gelyn raised a hand to stop him.

  “Now is the time for the truth! Do you think we don’t know everything about the smuggling operation?” Drops of Gelyn’s spittle flew onto the table.

  Meer flinched. Whether from the yelling or to avoid the spray, Vasile couldn’t tell.

  “You… must listen to me. I have no idea who is behind this. You have to believe me.”

  “Are you the ringleader?”

  “No,” replied Meer.

  Again, lying. Vasile snorted and scratched his ear once more.

  Meer flicked a distressed glan
ce his way. “Please, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t…”

  “How many boats do you bring in every week?” interrupted Gelyn.

  “None. You have it wrong…”

  “Which other nobles are part of the operation?”

  “No…no one. I told you…”

  Vasile scratched his ear.

  “Yes, you said a lot of things. The trouble is, I don’t believe you. Your protestations of innocence, your pleading, don’t matter to me. They only serve to irritate me further. And after a night without sleep and no breakfast, you don’t want to irritate me.”

  Meer Orlaith slumped further on his stool and ran a trembling hand through his hair. He gave a brief, barely audible, laugh.

  “What proof do you have? You can’t hold me here without proof,” he whispered.

  “What do I need with proof? I can hold you here until you rot away to a skeleton.” Gelyn looked to be enjoying himself; he was an old hand at this. “But I don’t have to explain. You’ve given me the information I needed.”

  “But I haven’t said anything, other than to protest my innocence!”

  Chancellor Gelyn tutted, looking at Vasile for confirmation. Vasile nodded.

  “It’s over. You should cooperate and it will go easier on your family. Viscount Meer Orlaith,” pronounced Gelyn, “I hereby charge you with smuggling, namely importing goods without paying lawful taxes. Under the power invested in me by the emperor, may he live forever, I order you to be imprisoned until a full confession is extracted and all details of the people involved in the operation are known. Your property and wealth are to be confiscated. Your family are to be evicted tomorrow with one set of clothes and one spoon each. This I declare.”

  “No!” screamed Meer. He leapt to his feet, only to have both guards restrain him. He struggled vigorously but lost strength after a few moments. “Please, I beg you. You have the wrong person.”

  “No, we don’t.” Gelyn stood. “Take him back to his cell. I’ll see him again later, after some sleep.”

  Meer’s struggles and protests commenced anew as the guards dragged him out the door, the noise fading as they moved down the corridor.

  Chancellor Gelyn closed his eyes for a few moments, gathering strength to himself, as if the whole process had drained him.

  “Thank you, Vasile,” he said quietly. “You may go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Caldan thought the memory of the corpse floating in the swell as they approached the pier would stay with him for the rest of his life. Pale and bloated, too small to be an adult. The Loretta passed by close enough that many of the crew stopped to stare. Occasionally, it jerked down as if being pulled, and the longer he stared the redder the water around it became, like a pool of ink spreading across a page.

  Soon after they passed the body, a boat with two men launched from the docks ahead and rowed towards it. They pulled alongside the corpse and used metal hooks attached to long wooden poles to retrieve the remains. And remains they were, as by the time the boat arrived it didn’t look like a body anymore as much as a mangled mess. Small sharks made their home in the harbor, and this morning they had found a feast.

  On deck, Caldan looked away from the sight. The famed city of Anasoma wasn’t the pristine pride of the empire as he had believed. Miranda had tried to explain this to him, but nothing drove new knowledge home like a good example. A bloated corpse welcoming him had certainly forced him to look at the city in a different light.

  Around the wharf the Loretta had tied up to, debris and rubbish drifted on the surface of the water. Seaweed, raw sewage, dead fish, leaves and sticks, and the odd piece of clothing all combined to form a disgusting scum. On the wharf next to theirs he could see disheveled children hanging over the side, plumbing the water with a three-pronged hook attached to a thin rope. The items they found and stashed in a wicker basket didn’t look like anything he would have considered keeping. Luckily, a stiff breeze from the water blew most of the reek of the flotsam away, but he could imagine what the stench would be like on a hot summer’s day. In the distance, a short way inland, atop towers poking over the roofs of buildings, he could just make out trebuchets and other siege engines. More of the emperor’s foresight to protect the empire from trouble.

  A forest of masts surrounded their ship, rocking gently in the swell. Boats of all types and in all states of repair, old and new, some disheveled from storms at sea and a lack of maintenance and attention, while others sparkled as if launched only yesterday.

  The wooden wharves projected into the harbor and were long enough to accommodate two or three ships on each side. They had been designed and built for incoming merchant ships, to separate them from the run-of-the-mill fishing vessels and make it easier for officials to segregate and inspect. There were four defined docking areas serving Anasoma — the merchants, where the Loretta had come to join the rest of the trading ships, the fisheries, where trawlers and netters docked, three stone piers for the nobles and emperor’s ships, and the Cemetery to the north.

  No piers of stone or wood for the Cemetery. It consisted of hundreds of ships lashed together at the furthest reaches of the harbor. Wrecks and hulls that still floated but would never again brave the open sea. Over the years, many of the city’s less fortunate had colonized these ships, turning the flotilla into an unofficial slums district.

  After docking, the crew ran out a gangplank then busied themselves with shipboard tasks, mainly squaring away and untying the cargo. Two guards from the harbor watch had taken position at the end of their gangplank, waiting patiently for customs officials. No person would be able to leave the ship until docks and custom duties were paid.

  Caldan’s sacks lay at his feet, and he scratched his chest. He had to consciously stop his hand from checking his rings were still secure around his neck.

  Having been eager to arrive at Anasoma and see the city, strangely, the delay at the docks so far was welcoming. The difference and peculiarity of the place confused him, as if the rules that previously governed his entire reality might not apply here. Disconcerting, to say the least. It’s far from the shining city he’d thought it was.

  It took an hour before two officious looking men strode up the gangplank and onto the ship, both of average height with protruding bellies. They were escorted by four grim-faced harbor watch guards. Captain Charlotte, forewarned of their arrival as they came down the pier, was on deck to greet them. The men had both withdrawn parchment from flat leather cases they carried, and one used a wooden pen with a metal nib to make notes. They all disappeared below decks for a cargo inspection and what Caldan suspected also involved a bribe. Leaving, they handed the captain a piece of parchment detailing the goods inspected and the harbor watch’s approval for her to dock and trade. On her way back below decks, Charlotte nodded for Caldan to disembark and drew close for a quick word.

  “You’re fine to leave now the inspection’s over.” She blew a breath out in relief, eyes squinted in the sun.

  “Thank you,” Caldan replied. “I assume everything went well. You didn’t expect any trouble, did you?” She seems nervous, was she smuggling?

  “Depends on what they found.” She winked at him as she hooked her thumbs into her belt. “Some of them are more trouble than others, think they can bend the rules to try and make some extra ducats. If you know the rules yourself, things go smoother.”

  Caldan nodded. As it was with most situations. “Any advice for the city?” He pointed his chin at the pier.

  “Yes, don’t linger in the docks district if you can avoid it. Dockside, they call it. Head straight up that main street in front of the pier and keep going until you see a largish intersection with two taverns. One, the Willing Mermaid, is a rough place, but the other is better, the Otter. You should be able to get a room for the night, if not longer, at a reasonable price.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  “And try not to be polite all the time. Some people will think it’s odd.”

>   He raised his eyebrows but nodded all the same. “And being too polite, I might be seen as someone new that can be taken advantage of?”

  “Exactly. You catch on quick, as I should know from your Dominion skill.”

  “It’s an obvious conclusion.”

  “Not to everyone, Caldan, not to everyone. Another thing, the room should be about two copper ducats for the night. The further up into the city you go, the higher prices get. I dare say you’ll want to spend as little as possible until you can set yourself up with a steady income.”

  His coin pouch rested inside his pants, tied to his belt and tucked in. Hard to access, but better than having a cutpurse steal it.

  “And you might want to visit the purified land inside the city walls, to the west. You can’t miss it. And to someone like you, I’d imagine it would be intriguing.”

  “There’s one inside the city walls?” said Caldan, shocked. Patches of purified land were scattered around the empire and the surrounding kingdoms. Places where sorcery, crafting and trinkets, didn’t function. Areas so blighted by sorcerous forces during the Shattering they were closed to all who could access their wells. He had read that stepping inside a section of purified land was an experience that left many sorcerers trembling and weak, though it was probably only because they couldn’t access their well, which was what made them who they were.

  “Go and see. You should be open to new experiences.” Charlotte shuffled her feet and glanced out to sea before looking back at him. “Well, good luck.”

  “Do you know where Miranda is? I thought she would be on deck so I could say my farewells.”

  “She’s helping ready some cargo for unloading. I thought you two had a chat last night.”

  “We did, and said goodbye. I thought… oh never mind.” Caldan didn’t know what he was doing delaying his departure, except he would have liked to see Miranda one more time.

  Charlotte placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself. You have much to sort out in the next short while. It’s no easy thing settling into a new place. I don’t envy you.”