“Here, look at this,” Sabium interrupted, sitting down at his desk and sticking a finger on the page in front of him. “It’s all in Orelianus’ work. The man was a genius.”
“Master,” Fadan insisted, finally steadying his breath. “You need to listen to me. I have very bad news.”
“What?” Sabium asked, turning to Fadan as if he had only now realized the Prince was there. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you so pale? Is your Transmogaphon charged?”
“What? Yes. Just listen to me, please. I went to the dungeons, in the Citadel, where Doric and the others are being kept.”
Sabium’s familiar frown wrinkled his forehead further. “How the heck did you do that?”
“I was practicing dematerializing,” Fadan replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. Inside‒”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Sabium interrupted. “You managed to do it? A Full body dematerialization?”
“MASTER!” Fadan cried, startling the old man and gaining his attention. “This is important. I overheard a conversation between the Chancellor and a Paladin Commander. They are gearing up for a large scale raid on all rebel hideouts here in the city. We need to warn your brother.”
Sabium let go of his book. “What? When?”
“Today,” Fadan replied. “I can’t know the time, but it’ll be today.”
“Today…” Sabium echoed, his eyes wandering out the tiny window next to his desk. “What time is it?”
“Early morning. The sun should be up any moment.”
“Goddess damn this,” Sabium muttered, heaving himself off the chair. “I told that fool this would happen one day.” He stormed over to a corner, kneeled, and lifted one of the floor boards
“I came as fast as I could,” the Prince said. “We should have plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time…” Sabium snorted as he stuck a hand into the hidden cache and retrieved two vials of Runium. “Paladins always strike at dawn.” He allowed the floor board to fall back into its place with a thump. “They prefer us when we’re sleepy.”
For a moment, Cassia felt transported to her father’s castle during the civil war of her youth. Doors flew open and slammed closed as officers marched in and out. Paladins frenzied up and down the corridors and staircases, barking orders and relaying messages. The Palace seemed to have been turned into the makeshift headquarters of some major operation.
It was still early. In fact, if it hadn’t been for all the ruckus outside her room, Cassia would probably still be in her bed.
She walked slowly to the great stairwell leading down to the main hall, listening to the fleeting Paladins around her.
“Tell Captain Sorba he has enough men,” a tall Major told a Sergeant, pushing him down the stairs.
“I don’t care,” a Colonel yelled from further down the hall. “Start rolling those prison wagons right now.” A group of Paladins surrounding him acquiesced with a salute and darted away.
What is going on? Cassia wondered.
A few feet behind her, the door to Tarsus’ study burst open. The Emperor emerged with a small battalion of officers in tow.
“We’re going to need reinforcements near the fish market,” one of the Paladins said, placing a finger on a report in the Emperor’s hands. “There’s also some more resistance than expected out near the Maginus bridge.”
Tarsus nodded. “Send the reserve squads in the southern edge of the district,” he said, lifting his head from the document. “Ah, good morning my love.” He looked unusually pleased with himself. He paused to kiss Cassia’s hand and the entire column halted behind him. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I won’t be joining you for breakfast today. Busy morning, I’m afraid.”
“I can see that, husband,” the Empress replied, doing her best to sound casual. “What exactly is going on?”
“We’ll speak later, my dear,” Tarsus said, giving her hand an extra kiss. “I am needed at the moment.”
Cassia curtsied slightly and the Emperor marched away with his escort, resuming his instructions. A pale, silver haired maid crossed the group with her head low, quickstepping towards the Empress.
“What’s going on, Venia?” Cassia asked her.
The spy checked their surroundings. “Some sort of raid down in the Docks.”
“A Runium grab?” the Empress asked, doubtful. “They wouldn’t go to this much trouble for a bunch of smugglers.”
“I still don’t know who the target is. But there’s something else, your majesty,” Venia said, pausing for a moment before revealing, “The Prince did not return this morning.”
Cassia’s head jolted towards the spy, yanking her attention from the buzzing Paladins.
“There’s probably no reason to worry,” Venia offered. “He’s almost certainly in his hideout. I’ll look for him there.”
The Empress nodded stiffly but said nothing. Something felt terribly wrong.
Alman’s house stood across the corner. Fadan and Sabium huddled behind the remains of a rotting chest of drawers and checked to make sure the way was clear. The streets were still mostly empty, with only occasional early risers here and there. Above them, the stars were long gone and the sky had become a slab of gray metal.
“I don’t see any Paladins,” Fadan whispered.
“We might have gotten lucky,” Sabium grumbled. “Come on.” The Mage took off from their hiding place, striding towards his brother’s house, but his head kept swinging from one side to the other, checking for any unwanted presences.
Fadan hurried behind his master and stood guard as he knocked on the door.
“Alman,” Sabium called, keeping his voice low. “Alman?”
Fadan’s head moved slowly as he scanned around them, looking for signs of any Patrols.
“Alman,” Sabium insisted, raising his voice and knocking harder.
“You think we’re too late?” Fadan asked.
“I don’t know…” Sabium replied, turning away from the door. Then, out of nowhere, he kicked the door in frustration. “Goddess damn you, Alman!”
Fadan jumped, startled at the burst of sound.
“This is why I didn’t want that fool to join the Rebellion,” Sabium muttered in irritation. “How the heck was this going to end any differently?”
“Maybe he’s not back yet,” Fadan suggested. “He might be on his way home right now. We should just wait.”
“For what, the Paladins?” Sabium shook his head vigorously. “No. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Hesitantly, Fadan followed the old Mage as he turned a corner and headed south towards the riverfront.
“Where are we going?” Fadan asked, having to speed up to keep pace.
“Remember when my brother said he worked for a ship-owner?”
Fadan nodded.
“It’s a lie,” Sabium said. “The ship-owner is a just a front, a cover-up for a Runium smuggling operation. Why do you think we are always so well supplied? Anyway, they have a warehouse and a dry-dock near peer twenty-one. If he hasn’t been taken yet, that’s where we’ll find him.”
Fadan gave his master a look. “Or the Paladins.”
“Or both.”
They turned into a wide plaza packed full of merchant stalls, still closed for the night. A tang of fish lingered in the air, and a large flock of gray feathered river gulls covered the wooden scaffolds of an adjacent dock. The birds’ occasional cries sliced through the lapping sound of the river waves against the shore.
The warehouse stood just a couple hundred feet down river, an enormous wooden rectangle surrounded by a sea of seemingly discarded objects including rows, rope, fishnets, and barrels. Above a vast, sliding door hung a tablet with a burnt inscription bearing the name: Boarhead’s Saffyan Shipping Company. It, just like the rest of the building, looked about to tumble to the ground.
Sabium knocked on the door loudly. “Alman,” he called. “Alman are you there?”
“Shh!” Fadan begged. �
�You want every Paladin in the empire to hear you?!”
“You said they’re hitting every rebel hideout, correct? Then they already know about this place and are on their way. What difference does it make?” He resumed his pounding on the door. “Alman!”
The door slid out of the way and a frowning Alman greeted them on the other side, a lantern in his free hand.
“What the heck are you doing?!” Alman protested. He peeked outside, inspecting the street. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Trust me, I know,” Sabium retorted, shoving his brother inside. Fadan followed them, closing the warehouse door behind him.
“And you brought him too?” Alman asked. “You can’t just barge in here like that.”
“For once in your life, just listen,” Sabium said, then turned to the Prince. “Tell him what you told me.”
“I overheard a conversation between Chancellor Vigild and a Paladin Commander,” Fadan explained. “There will be a raid today. They were discussing how the dungeons wouldn’t be enough to hold all the prisoners. It will be big.”
“Morning is already here,” Sabium added. “I assume Paladins will be storming this place within the hour.”
Alman’s expression melted into one of dread. “You’re sure of this?” he asked gravely.
Fadan nodded. “I am.”
Alman wiped his forehead. “I have to warn the others.”
“I knew he would say something stupid like this,” Sabium sighed, sending his arms up in desperation. “Did you hear us? There’s no time!”
“You don’t understand,” Alman said. “This isn’t just another day. There’s a high level meeting scheduled for this morning. Rebellion leadership from all across the Empire are here in Augusta right now.”
“Well, that’s certainly very stupid,” Sabium said. “Why would they schedule something like that right under the Emperor’s nose? More importantly, why do you care? You owe these people nothing. If anything, they owe you.”
Alman circled them, his fingers clasping his milky hair. “They came under the guise of the Petitioning…” he muttered, then halted, straitening up. “I have to warn them. You two get out of here. Stay out of the apartment. In fact, leave the city.”
Sabium cursed beneath his breath, but turned to Fadan and pushed him towards the door. “Come on,” he said.
“Wait, we’re just going to leave him?” Fadan asked.
“Well, what do you want us to do, drag the idiot behind us?” Sabium snapped. “We did our part. If he wants to get himself killed, there’s nothing we can do to stop him.”
“I’m not about to just‒”
Sabium’s hand abruptly moved to cover his mouth, muffling his words.
“No one makes a sound,” the Mage whispered. He sent his brother a worried look. “They’re here.”
A blast came from the door, the wood cracking as splinters flew inward, peppering over them.
“In the name of Tarsus the Fifth,” a voice yelled, “lay down on the ground!”
Fadan forgot how to breathe. The goat shaped tip of a battering ram was sticking out through the warehouse’s front door. He saw it retreating, readying to be swung for another hit. Before it had time to do so, a powerful blue glow shimmered around Sabium as he let go of Fadan. The Mage sent his palms up as if he was lifting something very heavy, and as he did, the entire wall containing the front door burst into flames.
Screams from outside filled the air.
Sabium turned to his brother. “Get us out of here,” he yelled.
Alman was staring at the fire, his eyes wide. “This way,” he finally said, fleeing behind a pile of containers, Fadan and Sabium fast on his heels.
Venia hurried into the large, abandoned manor, closing the door behind her without a sound. With the scarce light of day coming through the cracks of boarded windows, the mansion’s state of decay was even more obvious. Dark blotches of mildew covered the ceiling while loose floor boards were spread across the corridors like booby traps.
The floor was covered in a blanket of dust that lifted around her in tiny puffs with her every step. Whistles of wind crisscrossed the hallways, highlighting the eerie silence of the place. If the Prince was here, he was being very quiet.
Just like the previous time, when she had discovered the burning book, Venia climbed the steps to the attic, making sure the creaky floor did not give away her presence. Once again, the room was empty. The bucket was still in the same place, but the burning smell was gone.
Where are you, your majesty? Venia wondered.
This wasn’t a good sign, but in all honesty, Venia had not really expected to find Fadan here. If the Prince was a Mage, as she suspected, his nightly activities probably involved visits to the Docks. He had to have a Runium supplier, and those were usually working out of the Docks. With the Paladins raiding the district now, the most likely scenario involved the Prince being caught by one the patrols.
That will be a hard one to solve…
“Looking for someone?”
Venia jumped, circling towards the voice, her dagger sliding into her hand. It was Lord Fabian.
How did I not hear him? she thought, her heart racing.
“Well, you know me, boss,” Venia said. “It’s what I do.”
The old General stepped slowly into the room, inspecting it as if for the first time. “Looks like you didn’t find him, though. That’s… disappointing.”
Venia studied the man from head to toe. He had clearly followed her, but why? Which prompted another question – Could she beat him in a fight? His technique was probably still flawless, but at his age, how strong and quick could he really be?
“Is this a performance review?” Venia asked. “Because I promise you my next report will be ready on time.”
Fabian shook his head. “I’m not amused, Venia,” he said. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?”
The man snapped forward. He lunged at her, grabbing the wrist of her knife arm. Without even realizing what had happened, Venia felt herself spin. The old man had her pinned in a neck lock, her knife arm twisted so hard she couldn’t even twitch it.
Goddess damn it, she fumed, admonishing herself.
“This isn’t a game, Venia,” Fabian said. “I don’t care about your fake reports. I just want to know where the Prince is.”
“I really wish I could tell you,” Venia struggled to say. “You know, since you’re asking so nicely.”
Fabian tightened his grip. “What is this place?” he asked.
What?
“Are you serious?” Venia asked. “Shouldn’t you, of all people, know that?”
“The Prince didn’t want me to know about it, so I respected his privacy,” Fabian replied. He sounded almost apologetic.
“Oh, well, that’s certainly helpful right now.” She felt the grip around her neck loosen and managed to push herself free, gasping for air.
“He’s clearly not here. What other leads do you have?” he asked. “Where were you going to look next?”
“I actually hadn’t planned that far yet,” Venia replied, massaging at her neck. “But, just to clarify, if you didn’t know about this place, does that mean you don’t know what the Prince was doing here? What he… is?”
“No, I do not. Whatever the Prince does – or is – is none of my concern. Or yours, for that matter. Right now, however, I do care is if that knowledge can help us locate him.”
Venia smiled, sheathing her dagger. “If I had to guess, yeah, that knowledge probably can help. What do you know about the Paladin’s raid taking place as we speak?”
“I know that it’s going to go down fast, and I know that it has already started,” Fabian replied.
“In that case, you’d better get the entire Scriptorium to work, boss. Because I’m pretty sure the Prince is about to be arrested.”
Alman led them out through a hidden tunnel beneath the hull of a ship standing up for repairs on a dry-dock’s scaffolding. It was a narro
w, short underpass, and they were forced to crawl their way through in complete darkness before emerging about a hundred feet east of the burning warehouse.
Sabium’s fire had spread quickly. Bells rung and people were pouring into the street, holding buckets and rushing to haul water from the river to the growing inferno. Rugged sailors and fishwives cursed the gods, sweating as they hurried from the fire to the river.
The tunnel’s exit was hidden by a wall of wooden containers, probably ready to be shipped out of the city.
Breathing heavily, Alman peeked out into the main street. “The Paladins are spreading out,” he said. “They’re looking for us.”
“I say we run for the gates,” Sabium suggested. “Get out of the city.”
“No,” Alman argued. “Always avoid the main exits. That’s where they expect you to go.” He wiped sweat from his temples and moved away from the edge of the crate wall. “Listen to me. The Rebellion has a contingency plan in place for situations such as these.”
“Contingency?” Sabium echoed. “Alman, the entire Rebellion in Augusta is being arrested as we speak.”
“We’re not that easy to catch,” Alman assured him. “Every safe house and hideout has its precautions. Fake walls and hidden tunnels just like this one. Some of us will make it.”
“What exactly is the contingency plan?” Fadan asked.
“A rotating safe house,” Alman explained. “A place to fall back on and regroup. Its location is only known by Lieutenants, and it changes every other day.”
“Alman…” Sabium shook his head. “They are raiding the entire Rebellion in Augusta on the very day when you had scheduled an Empire-wide leadership meeting. The Paladins have obviously infiltrated your organization.”
“I understand that, but they would have to be infiltrated pretty deep to know about something like this. It’s very unlikely.” He took another peek out to the street. “We’ll walk out of here casually, alright? There’s no reason for them to suspect us. The Paladins don’t know what we look like. The crowd will be our cover.”
The Dragon Hunter and the Mage Page 37