The Cycle of Arawn: The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Edward W. Robertson

  His purpose was twofold. First, to brush up on any local poisons that might be surreptitiously introduced to Jocubs' food or water. And second, to find out whether the merchant-king had been foolish enough to register a copy of his manor's floorplan with the city archives. It wasn't out of the question. Though the notion was rarely spoken aloud, a rich man's manor was often thought of as a monument to himself, and gifting archives with records of that monument—its meaning, its history, its architecture, even its cost—was a way to gild its legacy in local lore.

  Not that it would be wise to ask about poisons in one breath and then the design for Jocubs' home in the next. Dante would see what he could do to find these things on his own before enlisting any help.

  He had expected the library to be a monastery or converted wing of a cathedral, but it was a thing all its own, a four-floor square that occupied its own block. A swooping roof shaded elegant stone pillars. Two massive statues of pike flanked the front walk, resting on their tails, long bodies curved into an S. The high doors stood wide open. Dante headed inside, frowning, ready to be ushered away by a blustering monk or officious servant. Instead, a black rope barred his passage. A man in a clean white uniform stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back.

  "Day's entry will be two-and-three, please."

  Dante stopped short. "Two silds and three pennies? Just to go inside?"

  "For the day, yes."

  "It would cost less than that to buy the book I need."

  The man tipped back his head, eyes downcast. "Yes, but the Library at Moor contains many thousands of books. In those terms, it is surely a bargain."

  Dante set his jaw and reached for his purse, counting out two silver and three iron. The steward glanced quickly at Lira.

  "That will be per person, sir."

  He sighed, paid, and walked from the foyer into a vast hall of shelved books. Old men milled through the stacks, taking down titles and thumbing cautiously through the yellow pages. A woman in white approached and offered her help finding Dante's title in exchange for three pennies more. Despite the prick to his sensibilities, he paid up. Under the pretense of having fallen in love with Jocubs' home, he asked for any and all materials related to its planning, construction, or history. In one sense, the woman in white earned her keep—she searched with him for three straight hours—but that did little to mitigate Dante's frustration when she turned up nothing. After so much talk of Jocubs, he could hardly ask about poisons now, and even after three hours navigating the dry and dusty shelves, he had no hope of finding anything about them on his own.

  He left angry. The afternoon was warm and muggy. His clothes rasped against his skin. Beside him, Lira was placid and silent as ever.

  He gave her a sidelong glance. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

  She stepped over a greasy puddle. "I'm here to keep you safe."

  "From the high danger of a library. I could be papercut at any moment."

  "Belittle all you like, but you walked out in perfect health."

  Back at Lolligan's, the group compared notes. Blays and Mourn hadn't seen anything all day, but they seemed highly unconcerned about their lack of progress, probably because they were both half drunk on beer. Fann confirmed their lack of results—from what he'd gathered, Jocubs and Cassinder had practically fortified themselves on Jocubs' island, and weren't expected at any dinners, parties, quorums, or appearances for weeks. Lolligan at least had something to show for his efforts. He'd hired seven swordsmen, three of whom were already quartered in the servants' wing. He hadn't been the only one bringing on new arms. To hear him tell it, there had been more merchants and bureaucrats prowling the steelyards than mercenaries.

  Dante went to his room to stew. He was still stewing late that night when Lolligan came to his door, a clever smile matching his clever mustache. The woman in the blue mask had arrived.

  She didn't want to come inside. Instead, they gathered in the grass beneath a manicured tree, moonlight sifting between its spiky, gnarled branches. The scent of the lake was all around them. The woman was dressed in her midnight bodysuit, her eyes white behind its slits.

  "Your decision makes us happy," she said softly. "Now we decide how to proceed."

  "I assume kicking in the front door is out?" Blays said.

  She shook her head. "That strategy would not be effective."

  "Really? Because I think he'd wind up pretty dead. Pretty really dead."

  "This is the problem."

  "Oh, I see. You only want him half dead."

  She chopped both hands downward. "We want his death certain but its cause unclear. We want his followers to be confused, not suspicious. Obvious assassination provokes too much sympathy. It would provoke too much of the TAGVOG into crossing over to the king's side."

  "Poison his household's food," Dante said. "It'll look like they ate bad fish."

  "There must be thirty people in his household," Lira said. "Servants. His family. You'd kill them all, too?"

  Dante scowled over the water. On the city pier, a buoy tolled in the darkness, far off and forlorn. "It was just a suggestion."

  "A needlessly ruthless one."

  "You guys act like you've never thought about how to kill someone before," Blays said. "Set fire to his house and shoot anyone who runs outside. Pour a jug of poison down his ear as he sleeps. Hire a family of snakes to slither in through his window and give him a big fat kiss."

  "I like the poison one," the woman said. "It is simple and deniable. Also it does not require us to know the language of snakes."

  "We need to find a way to sneak into his house, then." Dante gestured across the calm waves to the dark blot of Jocubs' island. "It doesn't sound like he's leaving it any time soon."

  "So we need to go kick in his front door?" Blays said.

  Lolligan cracked his knobby knuckles. "Men like him always have other ways in and out of their castles. It makes them feel clever. I've got a few back doors myself."

  "I failed to find his floor plan today," Dante said. "Maybe we can ask him to draw us a map."

  Blays nodded. "Or save us a whole bundle of trouble and poison himself."

  "His weakness is vanity," said the woman in blue. "Attack his weakness."

  "Send over a stranger who'd like a tour of his island palace," Blays said. "A stranger with blood as blue as a drowned sapphire."

  The woman snapped her fingers. "We have someone we can use."

  "That's it, then." Dante knocked on the rough trunk of the tree. "Find us a way in, and we'll do the rest."

  It was a good plan. Simple, swift, and unsuspicious. And it failed before it began.

  The woman in blue came back the next night. She had sent a boat to Jocubs' island with a letter of introduction for a wealthy young traveler who yearned to see the house he'd heard so much about. The boatman hadn't been allowed to step foot on Jocubs' docks. One of the four guards standing watch explained that Jocubs and Cassinder were deeply engaged in critical plans, and please understand they could not be interrupted, no matter who came calling.

  Back beneath the tree and the moonlight, Dante sighed hard enough to rattle the branches. "Guess it's right through the front door after all."

  "We could do that," Blays said. "Or we could use my perfect idea."

  "Which is?"

  "We send a letter to Cassinder asking for an audience. While you grovel and apologize for Narashtovik's insubordination, I take a look around and see if there's a way in. Or a way to take care of Jocubs then and there that isn't too obvious."

  "That sounds awful. What's so perfect about it?"

  "Two things," Blays said. "First, it attacks Cassinder's arrogance. There's no way he'll turn down the chance to watch you prostrate yourself."

  "I think I know the second thing," Dante said.

  "Second, you'll hate every moment of it."

  "I knew the second thing." Dante glanced between the others. "Anyone have a better idea? Please have a better idea."

&nbs
p; If they did, they kept it to themselves. Dante stayed up late composing the most polite and beseeching letter he could stomach, then dispatched it to Cassinder at Jocubs' home first thing in the morning. While he waited for the boat to come back with a response, he raised Cally on the loon. They hadn't spoken in days, and it took Dante several minutes to bring him up to speed. A carefully explicated speed—Dante told him nothing of their plans regarding Jocubs.

  "Unfortunate," Cally said. "No doubt the king offered the damn lake-traders a better deal than we could ever swing. You ought to just burn down the whole valley and be done with it."

  "That would show them," Dante said. "Have you heard anything new from the world? The norren?"

  "No. And if the clans are hoping that ignoring the ultimatum will slow Moddegan down, they'll have to hope harder. He's raising troops across the north."

  "What are we going to do, Cally?"

  "Don't worry, son." The old man laughed. "If they come for Narashtovik, we'll build a boat and sail to the north star. Or die heroically! We're never forced to face a single fate."

  Dante knew "son" was just a phrase, but Cally had never used it towards him before. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Cally the rest of the plan to overthrow Jocubs and sway the lakelands back to their side, but the loon went silent.

  Cassinder replied in the afternoon. He was happy to hear from Dante, and would welcome his visit two days hence. Dante was glad the invitation wasn't for that same day. The cold glee in Cassinder's response had Dante ready to blast a hole through the wall. Or through Cassinder. Or, to kill two birds with one stone, to blast Cassinder through the wall instead.

  Lolligan produced a vial of clear, odorless poison. Before crossing the waters to Jocubs', Blays sealed it with wax and concealed it in his underclothes. This turned out to be uncannily wise—when they stepped off on Jocubs' docks, the guards searched them top to bottom, taking Blays' two knives. Dante smiled internally. Two small blades were nothing compared to the poison in Blays' underpants, the nether in his own veins.

  The stately terraces of Jocubs' home were strangely quiet. Dante was led to a small den heavy with carpets and wall-hangings that helped insulate it despite the lack of a fireplace. On the pretense Dante wanted to speak to Cassinder alone, Blays waited outside.

  Cassinder took thirty minutes to arrive. He entered as quietly as a knife, closing the door without a click, not bothering with the formal one-step retreat of greeting under such circumstances. His smile didn't warm his eyes. "This can't be easy for you."

  Dante stood. "How's that?"

  "To admit to a man's face that you wronged him. That's why you're here?"

  "Among other things."

  "Good. If it weren't, this conversation would end now." Cassinder sat on a backless chair, his spine straight. "Then let me hear it."

  "The raid on your household was a mistake," Dante said, managing not to clench his teeth. "The norren we were with deceived us. We deceived ourselves, too. I let things get out of hand."

  "Are you sorry?"

  "That's what I just said."

  "You didn't. You danced around the words like a three-legged dog. I wonder if you mean them."

  Dante stared past Cassinder's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

  The man touched two fingers to the blond stubble on his head. "And there it is. What now?"

  "I would hope my mistake hasn't endangered the long relationship between Narashtovik and Setteven. We support the norren in many ways, but it feels like Gask is two steps from civil war. How has it come this far?"

  "Because we let it," Cassinder said. "We indulged. We did not make our expectations clear. Our subjects in the southern hills did what helps themselves rather than what builds the empire as a whole. It is now our responsibility to correct them."

  Dante's eyes narrowed. He forced his face to go blank. "What is your proposal?"

  "Before the Settives took hold of this country, we followed a different set of laws. When a man killed, we didn't kill him. We made him a servant to the family whose son he had taken. When he went, his older brother went with him. If he had no older brother, it would be his younger. If he had no brothers at all, it would be his best friend. The killer became a simple servant, but the older brother had a higher responsibility. If the killer didn't rise on time, his brother would beat him. If the killer misfed the family's cows, and one of the cows died, his brother would whip him. And if the killer grew frustrated, and killed another member of his new family, then his brother would kill him."

  Cassinder held his gaze, perfectly still. "The norren have sinned. Can Narashtovik be their older brother?"

  The nether stirred in Dante, licking along his veins. "If that is our responsibility."

  The young lord stood, adjusting the hem of his doublet. "That is how we keep the peace."

  "My lord..." Dante said, hoping to stall him, to give Blays as much time as possible to continue his rounds of the house, but Cassinder didn't turn. He closed the door behind him, as if Dante weren't there at all. His feet whispered down the carpeted hall. A servant arrived moments later.

  "I am afraid the house must be vacated," the man said. "We'll find your friend and bring him to you on the docks."

  As he was led from the house, Dante examined every doorway, nook, and staircase in sight, but there were no obvious weaknesses, no flap-doors or person-sized cracks large enough to wiggle through with no sign of entry. Guards stood by the outer doors, some wearing Jocubs' colors, others wearing the pine green of Cassinder. By the time Dante reached the pier, he was ready to fling himself into the water and let it take him where it may. Ten minutes passed before Blays appeared on the path to the docks, escorted by two guards and looking as relaxed as a three-hour nap. The pair rode back to Lolligan's in silence.

  Inside the house, Blays grinned hugely. "If your face is any indication, your meeting went just as poorly as expected. Also, you're ugly."

  "Oh dear. How will I ever convince you to marry me?"

  "Maybe you can get rich?"

  Dante flopped down in a chair. "It would be much easier than trying to do good. How did your search go?"

  "Pretty great!" Blays said. "I took a highly illuminating shit."

  "Did your brains go with it? You were supposed to be searching for a way in!"

  "It's funny. There I was, perched on this wooden bench, when I discovered a strong draft doing strange things to my nethers. Once I finished up my first priority, I braved my health and sanity and stuck my head down the same hole my ass had just occupied."

  "Really? And how did the family reunion go?"

  Blays stretched his arms wide. "The crapper was as wide as a chimney! Dark as one, too, but I could still smell. You know what I smelled?"

  "The inside of a toilet?"

  "Yeah, but a surprisingly not-awful one. Then I started listening. And you know what I heard?"

  Dante pressed his palms against his forehead. "My endless screams?"

  "Splashing. Soft, gentle splashing."

  Dante lifted his head. "How wide did you say it was?"

  "At least four feet by three," Blays grinned. "As far down as I could see. Did I mention the bathroom was on the same floor as Jocubs' bedroom?"

  "I think it's time to find Lolligan."

  According to his majordomo, the salt merchant was on business in town. When he returned, Blays explained his suspicion that the toilet opened straight into the lake. Lolligan's mouth fell open with laughter.

  "I have no doubt it does. Why didn't I think of this to begin with?"

  "Because it's disgusting," Blays said. "We're going to need some more clothes. Preferably something you won't mind having covered in shit and then dropped in the lake as we swim home."

  "How soon can we make this happen?" Dante said. "Ulwen, has she hired her troops? Will she be ready to move if Jocubs' supporters smell a rat?"

  Lolligan nodded, smiling sharply. "There's hardly an idle mercenary in town. Everyone's been hiring new help and it hasn't
raised an eyebrow. Unrest is coming, you know."

  "You don't say." Blays bent at the waist to touch his toes, grunting as he stretched. "Guess we'd better practice climbing up a toilet."

  One of the five-story terraces that made up Lolligan's home had been disused since the previous summer. Including its chimney. The next two days, while they weren't coordinating with Ulwen and the woman in blue, Dante, Blays, and Lira spent their time clambering up and down the wing's largest chimney, a square vault roughly three feet to a side and some thirty feet high. As it turned out, the enclosed space was just tight enough to make climbing easy. By bracing two or three limbs against the sooty bricks at any one time, Dante could push himself up the flue without the use of a rope or tool. Blays and Lira were more agile yet, scaling the vertical rise in less than two minutes.

  That left two wildcards: finding the lakeside entry to the toilet, and widening the hole through the boards at its upper end enough to climb through. After discussion, Dante decided not to try to advance-scout the entry's location—either they would find it on the night of the attack or they wouldn't. As for the boards up top, through experimentation in the chimney, Blays discovered he could brace himself securely enough with two feet and one hand to use his remaining hand to pry loose or saw through a wooden plank with minimal noise or time. It was even easier if he could secure a rope to the seat and dangle from that while he worked. All told, Dante estimated they could swim in, climb up, break through, deliver the poison to Jocubs, and climb back out in no more than fifteen minutes.

  "I want to kill Cassinder, too," he said once he made that calculation.

  Blays lifted his brows. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

  "Extremely."

  "Let me put this another way. Do you think that's more or less likely to get us exposed or killed in the middle of this ridiculous mission?"