Once Banlor’s approval became apparent through Soren’s change of position, each of the others became much more vocal with ideas and opinions. There remained a relative uncertainty that revealed itself in the sidelong glances they cast his way even as they offered up each of their suggestions. Fortunately, they weren’t here to think. So long as they followed his lead, no harm would come to his plans or to them.
Banlor settled into his chair to watch and listen as his thoughts drifted to more important matters. His gaze settled on the shorter, wiry frame of Lord Laran Perisal, or rather the shapechanger that wore his body. All the creatures were simply astounding in their ability to perfectly mimic everything about their hosts. Banlor didn’t even need to hear what was being said to know Laran disagreed with a proposal on the table. The doppelganger’s faithful representation of the general’s twitching left hand and the stiffening posture as he leaned in to argue a point were telltale enough.
Banlor allowed himself a discreet smile. Despite the few “oddities” in personality, the doppelgangers had proven more than able to handle any task he might assign them. He could forgive them that, however. After all, they were the perfect manipulators and assassins, not the perfect socialites. They served their function as tools, and he had no need of friends.
A smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you quite well, Minister?” Ebulon Jafick asked.
Banlor made no pretense of hiding his irritation at the intrusion. Jafick had managed to wheedle his way into a position on the council just before King Roderick had fallen too ill to attend their weekly meetings and had been far beyond the ability to make even the pretense of a sound decision. If the ability to tirelessly ask vapid questions and draw ridiculous conclusions was a prerequisite for a position on the council, then Ebulon was an excellent choice. The real issue Banlor had with the man was that he too often related gossip as fact.
Banlor glanced around the table to see who else might be interested in Ebulon’s questions. Thankfully, only Hammon Plack, one of three ministers of trade, appeared to be watching, and his attention was drawn back to the table as Laran raised his voice and thumped a spot on the map.
Banlor gave Ebulon a wan smile. “I am fine, Lord Jafick. Only envisioning a quick resolution to this distraction with the Wildmen savages.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Ebulon replied, preening slightly at Banlor’s addition of the word “Lord” to his title. He was of noble birth, but only just. One bad harvest season had stood between his family’s success and a complete ruin that would have seen Ebulon wielding a hoe instead of a position of moderate authority. “That mess to the south should be handled in short order. Matters north, however...” Ebulon paused and looked significantly at Banlor as the moment stretched. “Could take considerably more time and effort, I would think.”
Only years of practice in masking his emotions prevented Banlor from starting at the chill that ran down his spine. It wasn’t the open mention of the north that put him on edge; anyone listening would think the nosy twit spoke of the elves. The knowing look on Jafick’s thin face, however, screamed that he knew something much more. It was more likely that the sniveling little bastard knew nothing and was instead trying to fish for information on some rumor. If even a whiff of the property transfers had made it to Jafick’s ears, he would know Banlor was in the best position to know more.
Banlor pushed away a mental image of Kesh backing away from Walina. Her oddly sibilant yet melodious voice rang softly through his mind. “He lies…” Banlor and Ebulon looked at each other in silence until Banlor felt he had again mastered his emotions and voice. “I believe you are correct in your speculation, sir,” Banlor answered. “But a resolution is always possible with patience and persistence.”
Ebulon nodded as if Banlor had said something that was deeply important but said no more.
The chill on Banlor’s nerves thawed at Ebulon’s silence. He knows nothing, he thought firmly, beginning to relax but still making plans to be rid of King Roderick’s last mistake. There could be no slips now, no matter how unlikely the source.
“And did you make a note of that, Lord Graves?” Laran asked, curtly.
Both Banlor and Ebulon started at the near-shouted question. Banlor’s mind raced but found he could not bring to mind the conversation that had precipitated the doppelganger’s demand. He once again reached for his practiced calm. “I beg your pardon, lords and ladies,” he said, half rising. “Jafick posed me a question I was lost in considering. Please, repeat that last?”
The retired general’s eyes rolled in disgust, then he rattled off a list of supplies and grants the ground forces would need. To one side, the scribes who recorded the minutes from the meetings compared their notes to the spoken words and nodded along.
There was no need for the outburst, of course; it was just a part of the act. The real Laran Perisal had always resisted Banlor’s authority with a resentful air. “I’ll see you die!” had been the old man’s last words, as a matter of fact, though it was Laran and not Banlor that had exited the realm of the living. This doppelganger, just like its counterparts, had retained much if not all of the host’s memory and emotion. The creature that wore Walina’s flesh had retained the desire to be near Banlor and to touch him whenever possible, just as the real Walina had done in life. The young girl’s lingering personality was a bit disconcerting in truth, but Laran’s, by comparison, was simply terrifying.
At first, Banlor had tried to keep Laran close, as he had with Dammer, Walina, and the others. Barely a single day had passed before the staring eyes of the old general had unnerved him to such an extent that he had ordered the creature to remain at the Perisal estate unless called. Since then, Banlor had only tested the creature’s loyalty on a few occasions. Each time, the gray eyes had bled away to be replaced by the implacable black while an internal battle appeared to commence. The creature always bowed in the end, but it was stiffly and with no small amount of resentment. Many nights Banlor had awakened to Walina standing over him, staring with her soulless black eyes. If Laran were to have remained in residence at his manor, Banlor feared he might not wake up at all.
Prince Alexander stepped into the building tension. “Laran, I understand you are interested in making certain the details are managed correctly, but the scribes appear to have the list well in hand. Minister Graves is not obliged to make a note of every word that is spoken here.”
The doppelganger bowed stiffly and quickly, just as the real general would have, before turning back to the table, where he began to detail the number of cooks and farriers that would also be required to keep the armed forces fed and mounted.
Banlor stepped to a spot across the table from Laran and listened with half an ear to the arguments and discussions—he would not be caught flatfooted again. As he listened, he wondered about the last of the creatures Selen had gifted to him, Clarissa Greenleaf. He had sent Clarissa with Captain Bale Tigon not only to ensure the success of the mission but also to ensure the good captain did not have a change of heart—lest Clarissa remove it for him.
Prince Alexander sighed heavily, placing his fists in his back as he stretched away from the table. Princess Sloane smiled at her husband and patted his shoulder.
Banlor prevented himself from glaring at the pair.
“I think,” said the prince, “that this is a good place to stop for the day, my lords.”
Murmurs of agreement chorused around the table as the various nobles also knuckled sore backs and yawned in turn. Banlor added his own voice to the assembly before stepping to the clerk’s table to gather the lists of materials he would be responsible for.
As papers were shuffled and gathered, Rouke suggested an evening flight that the prince and princess enthusiastically agreed to. Almost arm in arm, the trio preceded the rest of the nobles through the large doors into the halls of Terrandal.
Banlor followed but not closely. His mind was still distracted by thoughts of his supernatural servants.
> Banlor straightened the cuffs of his sleeves as he walked with a more confident air. He eyed Alexander and Sloane stepping through an alcove with Rouke close behind. Something the soldier said caused the princess to laugh aloud just as she disappeared through the archway.
Enjoy your time while you can, children, Banlor thought grimly. Soon enough, it would be his laugh that echoed through these halls.
SACHA released her hold on the javelin that hung suspended between her and Teacher. The weapon launched through the air, forcing her to spin away before it lodged in the wall behind where she had been standing.
She looked at the wavering end and then back at her mentor. “Nothing like a pointed lesson to drive home a truth?” she quipped.
“Indeed, pupil,” Teacher replied with a smile. “I sense, though, that it was not to make a joke that you relinquished your control.”
He was entirely correct. Sacha was not in the habit of stopping mid-exercise, but she needed to move past this lesson. This was not the only time she had faced him in a contest of will and power. In all, she had sparred with him more than five times in the past three weeks. Two days ago she had bested him, much to his shock and confusion. Ever since she had managed to convince him to share with her the secrets of tapping into another’s mind, Teacher had become increasingly distracted and had lost some of his adversarial edge.
As was normal when she considered that first lesson in which he had shown her his mind, she shied from the memories that came clamoring. The horrors Teacher had shown her in the mist had pushed her sanity to the brink. She knew now, after delving into so many of the Wildmen, that only a practitioner of the Shamonrae could gather such defenses within that second barrier of the mind. Not one of the Wildmen had shown a hint of true resistance during her search for their leader.
Even though she had been mostly successful, the cost of obtaining that information was to never forget the smoking ruin of Gelt’s sightless eyes and the terror of the others as she approached. Even worse was the part of her that whispered that their fear and death were good things. It was right, that voice had said. She could save thousands for the price of only a few.
Sacha gritted her teeth and pushed down the memory of that tempting voice now living inside her head. Teacher had warned her, but she couldn’t have imagined the full truth of his words until she had torn through two dozen minds to get what she wanted. Every one of those poor souls she had searched had not come out the same afterward. Sadly, Sacha knew in her heart that there would be more in her future.
“What troubles you, pupil?” Teacher asked, filling the awkward silence.
Sacha met his gaze squarely. “Truthfully?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“You, Teacher,” she said. “You trouble me.”
Confusion flickered across his features, but then understanding seemed to dawn. “Another jest? I’m afraid I don’t understand this one.”
Sacha was already shaking her head. “No, Teacher. This is no joke.”
“Then I truly do not understand,” he said. “What about me troubles you?”
Sacha did not return his smile. She could not. She continued to shake her head slowly, wanting to cry. Instead, she gathered her courage and ignored the question. “I would like to enter your mind today.”
His face immediately hardened, and his next words were the same as they had always been when she asked about the mind. This was the one topic he repeatedly seemed able to forget they had discussed until Sacha pushed him. Teacher continued in his heated disapproval of learning such magic, but Sacha didn’t listen. She had heard it all before.
Despite the redundancy of his argument, Teacher’s resistance was comforting in a way. Her mentor had engaged in the vast majority of his instruction with a spirit that was almost cavalier compared to the measured and deliberate pace of her lessons at the Monastery. Sacha knew now, without a doubt, that this was due to the manipulation of Vinnicus. She could only speculate as to why this one subject caused Teacher to resist so passionately, but she felt it had something to do with his inner-self trying to break free, a part of his mind Vinnicus had not been able to taint.
“Teacher!” Sacha said sharply, interrupting his diatribe. She waited for him to stutter to a halt before speaking. “I assure you, I have good and sufficient reason for doing so.”
“I will not allow—”
“We have had this argument before, though you might not realize it!” She was treading on his dignity now, but she had grown tired of having the same fight over and over again. Today was the day she planned to free him of Vinnicus’s bonds, and she had no patience for subtlety. “Please believe me when I say that I am trying to help you.”
Teacher huffed in a way that was most unlike him. The man she had come to know for the best part of her two years at the Monastery was virtually unflappable. Sighing in frustration in front of a student or even acknowledging such an overt emotion as frustration were equally unthinkable. This open irritation was just another indicator that he battled within himself.
“Not only have we had this conversation before, you have conceded that I needed to know how touching the mind works.” She held up a hand to forestall his indignant explosion. “I will show you that I speak the truth. To your knowledge, have you ever taught me about such things of the mind?”
“Never!” Teacher barked. “Nor shall I ever!”
Sacha knew of no other way to prove they had covered this ground before than to show him. She would break his targeted amnesia the best way she knew how: by creating a mental blade in front of him.
The color drained from Teacher’s face as he watched the arcane power coalesce. “What have you... How did…” Anger suddenly bloomed on his reddening face as he leapt to a conclusion Sacha had not entirely expected. “Who has taught you this abomination?”
Sacha watched, open mouthed, as her mentor suddenly drew in power. A flicker of light that took the form of a mace flashed between them, smashing her mental blade to glowing flinders. She stumbled back in shock and pain.
“I will know who has corrupted your mind!” Teacher seethed. “You will tell me who has given you this knowledge.”
Sacha rubbed her temples and managed to mumble past the pain. “You did, Teacher. You did, because I needed you to.”
Teacher shook his head, but Sacha caught his furious gaze and held it. “Tell me, Teacher. How long have you been here, teaching me at Riverside?”
“You have the audacity to try and distract—”
“How long, Teacher?!” she pressed.
He stared at her agog. He likely had never been interrupted so often in all his time mentoring, but something she said or the way she had said it dampened his fury. He huffed again. “I cannot see why that is relevant, but no more than a handful of weeks.”
“Months, Teacher,” Sacha said softly. “You’ve been here for months.”
“Ridiculous!” he scoffed. “There is no way I have been away from the Monastery for so long. Someone would have sought me out...”
Alexander’s voice whispered in her thoughts like a ghost. Gone...
Sacha shivered and pushed that away. Bringing up the disappearance of every mage but Teacher and herself would not help her mentor come to grips with what she was trying to tell him. Getting him to understand that he did not see things correctly or remember them accurately was going to be more than a large enough step. “You had told me you sent them word of your extended absence,” she answered.
“Ridiculous,” he said again but with nowhere near the same vehemence as before. “You must be mistaken.”
“I am not, and I know why you cannot remember.”
Teacher frowned but said nothing as he continued to glare at her.
Good, he’s starting to consider, Sacha thought in relief. They had been through this part before as well, but it usually took them hours to get here. She pressed on. “You and I were taken captive by a creature named Vinnicus.”
Teacher grabbed the
sides of his head, reeling in pain. “No!”
“You are being used,” she continued. “And I think at least a part of you knows it. Please, let me help you.”
Teacher staggered. “Stop this...”
Sacha took hold of his arm and fashioned her mental blade once more. Whether he pleaded for the pain to stop or for her to cease speaking, she didn’t know but said, “I will.”
She began the meditations of purification and harmony to clear her mind of all distractions. When stillness reigned, she opened her mystic eye to consider Teacher’s mind.
She found her previous entry point without difficulty. It had sealed itself closed, but she could sense what her virtual eyes could not see: a place in the unbroken plain where the membrane was thinner, like scar tissue. Her amber blade sliced into the cerulean blue of Teacher’s outer layer. Tiny ropes of electrical current danced across the strobing surface as she cut. Once the entrance was made, fear crept into Sacha’s resolve, but she forced herself onward, delving into her mentor’s mind.
The rolling fog was all too familiar. Sacha stumbled forward, unable to see through the dense mist. Shapes skittered by in the corners of her eyes. She refused to look at them, hoping against hope that Teacher was actively helping her, keeping his demons at bay. She reached out with her arcane sense, desperately looking for the solid surface of her mentor’s third and final barrier.
Sacha breathed a sigh of relief as her senses pressed against steady stonework. She almost ran toward the wall, even though she couldn’t see. Thank Eos, she thought when the marbled surface finally came into view and she was able to touch it with trembling hands. The fog abated, pulling back ever so slightly once she made contact with the last layer of Teacher’s defenses. Sacha had no idea how she was going to breach such an obstacle. The fact that its mere presence supplied her with a sense of security didn’t make the prospect of breaking through it any more appealing.
Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3) Page 19