Arynda
“Master Trous,” Graelle responded with a smooth curtsy.
The man was dressed in a fine, white silken shirt covered with a vest of deep blue. He wore no hose, as was the Aiestali fashion, but a pair of loose, black trousers tucked into calf-high black boots. He descended the stairs with arms held open and gathered Graelle into a friendly embrace. They traded kisses on the cheeks and Trous pulled back, keeping hands on Graelle’s upper arms as he looked at her.
“You are still the picture of beauty, lasa.”
Lasa, Ezra remembered Arynda calling him that. It was a Tolean term of endearment close friends used with one another
Graelle chuckled nervously, “You flatter me Master Trous.”
“Nonsense!” he laughed loudly. Then he turned to look at Ezra. He let Graelle go, and that’s when Ezra caught sight of the five rings he wore on his right hand–talises. There was one flame ring, a restoration band, a brute ring, and two others he couldn’t identify. This man was powerful in means and formidability.
“Lasa, who is your guest?”
“My bodyguard,” Graelle quickly said. “Since Kaul took away my enforcers, I had to hire one for protection for myself and my girls.”
Trous stared at Ezra for a long uncomfortable moment before curtly nodding. He turned back to Graelle and smiled. “Forgive me for saying so, lasa, but he doesn’t look very intimidating.”
“He’s all I could afford,” Graelle quickly added.
“Yes, well.” Trous cast another glance at Ezra. “If it were up to me, I’d make sure you had all the enforcers you needed.”
Clever. Trous’ hosting the meeting of the Rikujo lords was obviously strategic. As host, he’d be under decorous obligation to greet each attendee personally, giving him ample opportunity to campaign and solicit support. He’s going to be a problem.
“You are the last to arrive, lasa. Everyone else is waiting in the dining hall.” He chivalrously extended a hand to Graelle. “If you care to follow me?”
Graelle took his hand–and was she blushing? Ezra rolled his eyes. Her succumbing to Trous’ charm reminded him of Irvis. The man was dog-ass stupid when it came to facing an attractive member of the opposite sex. Perhaps the two of them would make a fair match. Where was Irvis, anyway?
Trous led them up the stairs to the second floor and through two double doors into a large room with a vaulted ceiling. A cacophony of mixed chatter greeted his ears as they entered the dining chamber. Over two dozen men and women dressed in finery and displaying an eclectic variety of talises lined both sides of the large table. They were eating, drinking, laughing, and chatting amiably.
It’d be every bit the joyous celebration it appeared to be if it weren’t for the reality that any one of the guests wouldn’t hesitate to plant a knife in the back of their fellows if it suited their purposes. Ezra was in a nest of vipers; a room full of dangerous people he had to convince to follow him. If he failed, he would die. Worse yet, if he failed Jekaran would die.
Jekaran
The thought of saving his nephew ignited Ezra’s courage. He took a deep breath, set his jaw, and released his restraint of the dread medal. A cold rush of invisible power exploded from him, expanding out in all directions. Graelle gasped and Mulladin began to whine. Trous spun around and the entire room fell silent, all eyes fixing on him. Good. He’d needed to catch them off guard if this was going to work.
I will be Argentus again. For Jekaran.
“Since when did an assembling of the dreaded shadow council become a frivolous revelry?” he asked loudly. A few of the men and women flinched as though he’d physically struck them. “I see now that many of you have grown fat off your spoils. You are swine content to eat slop and wallow in filth all day, ignorant of your impending butchering.”
“Who are you?” Trous asked. He appeared to have gotten a hold of himself, though Ezra could see a mental struggle behind his eyes.
Ezra slowly drew down his hood and the room sucked in one collective gasp. He heard repeated whispers of, “Argentus,” and “The Invincible Shadow and “he has Kaul’s talis!”
“Yes,” he said. “It is I.” He cringed inwardly at that last part. Too dramatic.
Ezra caught Trous’ eyes flicking down to his side, no doubt checking for his sword. When he didn’t see it, the man’s face appeared to relax a bit. “Argentus,” the man exhaled. “You’re supposed to be–”
“Dead?” Ezra cut in.
Trous cleared his throat self-consciously. “I was going to say, retired.”
“But you’d hoped I was dead.” Ezra made sure to let his stare linger on the man. How did Kaul make this damned thing focus on one person at a time?
He turned to face the room full of staring Rikujo lords. “I know it’s what you wanted, even when I was with you.” The men and women started shooting tacit glances at each other. He recognized some of them: Curly-haired Jaggatt, a man with an opium distribution ring outside of Rasha. Stern-faced Adlere, the boss of a smuggling operation run out of the southern port city of Lyamar. Voluptuous red-lipped Shydal, incongruously the leader of a group of elite warriors, bodyguards, or assassins depending on the customer’s needs. And there were others, but about half of the dinner guests were unfamiliar to him.
Ezra took a step forward.
“What is it that you want, Argentus?” Trous asked, his eyes still twitching from the effort of resisting the fear aura.
“I am concerned over the disgustingly incompetent handling of my legacy!”
“Then you mean to take back control of the Rikujo?” The question came from a woman Ezra didn’t recognize. She was younger than the other lords and dressed in elaborate finery with face painted like that of a noble woman.
She’s not afraid of me. It made sense. Someone young and attractive like her would’ve had to learn how to resist the dread medal if she were to keep herself safe around Kaul. Well as safe as anyone could be around the violent maniac. Also, and probably more likely, was the possibility that she didn’t fear him because she’d never seen him fight with the sword.
“No,” Ezra’s voice echoed throughout the hall. “I intend to continue my well-earned retirement. I am here as the envoy of the only man with the true right of succession.”
“And who might that be?” Trous’ polite demeanor was gone, his voice now frosted with cool contempt.
“A man named Jekaran. He is my nephew and heir. The one who slew Kaul with my own sword. The new Invincible Shadow!”
The frightened silence in the room melted and the group of Rikujo lords broke into a clamor of overlapping conversation. Ezra could only discern bits of what was being said, but the theme of all the conversations was disbelief, resentment, and anger.
Trous held up a hand and the men and women trailed off into silence.
He’s already stepped in to fill the void of leadership, Ezra gritted his teeth. That would make this far more difficult than he anticipated.
“Forgive me for saying so, Argentus, but if this is true, then why did he not come himself? Why send you, alone and defenseless?”
That’s a subtle threat if I’ve ever heard one. He shot a glance at Graelle. Why was she so quiet? He could really use her support right now.
“My nephew has gone on to Aiested to prepare for a heist grander than anything the Rikujo has ever pulled. A job that will require all of our talent and resources.” Ezra paused for dramatic effect. “He is going to rob the king.”
Gasps and stunned outbursts exploded from the table of men and women. Ezra smiled to himself. He’d been hoping for a reaction like this. The fear, surprise, and theatrics were all intended to put the crime lords off their guard, make them gullible. Robbing the king was a folly not even he would’ve attempted in the heyday of his power. Not even a talis as powerful as the sword would lead him to take such a risk. But a young man, newly inheriting a powerful army of criminals and wielding a talis that made him virtually invincible might. That was the brashness o
f youth, after all.
Trous’ slow, deliberate clapping echoed throughout the dining hall, silencing the other Rikujo lords. “Very good,” he laughed pleasantly. “Wonderful performance!” He sounded genuinely pleased. “I wondered how you were going to handle that one.”
“Take care, Trous!” Ezra snarled as best he could though his insides were freezing with fear. He tried to focus the dread medal’s broadcasting, but failed again. “You do not want to offend the man who wields the sword of the Invincible Shadow!”
“Perhaps,” Trous replied. “But I doubt he wields it any longer.”
“What’re you talking about?” Ezra snapped. “He’ll kill you Trous!” Ezra turned to look at the other Rikujo lords. “He took the head of Kaul and he will take the head of any who oppose his right of succession!”
“Argentus’ nephew did slay Kaul with the sword of the Invincible Shadow, this is true. But just a short time later he was captured by a nobleman and spirited away to Aiested–as a prisoner.”
Ezra’s mouth went dry. He tried to speak, but nothing would come.
“He will be hanged and the sword will become the property of King Taris. Therefore we do not need to concern ourselves with offending him.”
“How can you be certain?” Adlere shouted out. “If you’re guessing and you prove wrong…”
“I am not guessing,” Trous said. He kept smiling and didn’t look away from Ezra.
“How–” Ezra began, and then he knew. He turned to look at Graelle. “You contacted him with your speaking stone before we left.” It wasn’t an angry accusation, but a plain statement of fact. “You sold us out.”
“I tried to warn you, Argentus. But you wouldn’t listen.” Graelle couldn’t hold his gaze.
“They’ll kill my nephew, Graelle.”
She shook her head. “I told you, Ezra. I’m not some celibate old Handmaiden of Rasheera doling out penance for the poor. I have my own affairs to look to. My own interests to protect. I’m a survivor, and supporting Trous is the best way for me to survive.”
Trous stepped forward, shot a hand out, and snatched the dread medal from Ezra’s chest. In one fluid motion, he pulled it off, snapping the leather thong across the back of Ezra’s neck in the motion. It should sting but at that moment Ezra was completely numb.
Trous leaned in close. “I really should thank you.”
“Why is that?” Ezra said, and his voice sounded hollow to his own ears.
“Your appearance has given me a chance to kill you myself, in front of the others. I can’t think of a better way to prove in their minds that I have the right to lead them.”
“Then get it over with!”
Trous didn’t respond to that. Instead, the man turned to face the other Rikujo lords. “Before you stands the man who founded our glorious company!”
Jeers and curses rang throughout the dining hall.
Trous raised a hand. “No, no, no! Argentus is to be honored!”
Confusion as much as Trous’ authority calmed the crowd back to silence.
“Decency demands he be given a chance to reclaim his place as our leader.” Trous turned to look back at Ezra. “He and I shall duel without talis craft, and the winner shall be the undisputed head of the Rikujo. The loser, of course, will be dead.” Trous shot Ezra a knowing smirk.
It was as much an act as Ezra’s performance had been. There was no way he could best Trous, a man ten years younger and in better physical condition than he probably had ever been–and Trous knew it. This was just a way for the man to solidify his hold on the Rikujo.
Ezra turned to look at Graelle, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He should be angry with her, but how could he blame her? She had warned him, hadn’t she? She had offered to let him go free. No, this wasn’t Graelle’s fault. This was his. Damn me for a fool, he thought as the cheering of the other Rikujo lords overwhelmed him.
Kairah sensed the alien consciousness focus its attention on her. Where are you? she called out to the predator with her mind.
Her only answer was a clap of thunder so close and loud that it made her jump.
I am Kairah of Allose, she projected, working hard to hide her apprehension.
An image unfolded in her mind; a picture of a nude woman floating lifeless, submerged in a purple ocean the entirety of which was encased in a spherical crystal rock. The rock looked to be made of the same crystalline substance as an Apeira well, except that woven just beneath its amethyst surface were veins of green that pulsed with a soft emerald light. The image faded.
I do not understand, Kairah sent.
The invisible predator didn’t respond in words, but instead impressed an idea upon her that seemed to say this is what I am.
Unlike Aeva or the sword, this mind didn’t feel like it was broadcasting from a single physical location. No, this felt as though it were flowing through the air all around her, like a psychic wind. That was how she sensed Apeiron when it radiated from a well. This has to be the other magic–Moriora.
Cautiously, Kairah reached out to tap the unseen energy. Immediately her mind was racked with blinding pain. It was similar to a migraine in how it clenched the head and pulsed with waves of agony, but that was where the similarity ended. The intensity of it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The bitter tang of bile burned Kairah’s throat as she retched. She was aware of collapsing to her knees, but the pain made focusing on anything else impossible, and she struggled to form any coherent thought, to say nothing of trying to spell-cast.
Two powers warred within her; one warm like sunlight, the other freezing like a bitter icy wind. Kairah heard herself screaming, and desperately tried to expel the Moriora from her body. She’d only tasted it, but that had been enough to open the door, and now it was trying to force its way in and take the place of her stored Apeiron. Panic made it even harder to think. It was like she’d stepped into a bog and was being sucked under, the filthy mud filling her nose and mouth as she gasped for breath.
Draw from the mother shard, a voice said. Was that Aeva’s voice? It had the same cadence but was weighted with a depth not possessed by the Spirit Lily.
I am too far away, she cried. Trying to draw Apeiron in her present state would be like trying to draw breath when the mud of the bog was already filling her lungs. Her panic reached a crescendo.
Space has no meaning here, the voice replied with a feeling of perfect calm. Now, reach out to the mother shard and be filled.
Feeling the last bit of her Apeiron being consumed, Kairah threw her consciousness at the mother shard–the Aeose that powered Allose itself. Hot energy flowed into her. At first, it only fed the darkness, but the more she breathed in, the more it expelled the mud from her lungs. Soon the Apeiron was driving the Moriora back, overwhelming it until it had no choice but to retreat from her soul. Kairah gasped aloud, staring down at half of a skull on the blackened ground.
The pain faded, slowly at first, but finally disappearing altogether save for a tiny headache behind her eyes. She inhaled deeply, tears involuntarily rolling down her cheeks and splattering the dark rock.
Her stomach knotted as she recognized the feeling of the power that had nearly obliterated her. She’d felt it before when scrying for Karak’s Eater. But as that had been a taste, this was a potent full dose and she could only think of one word to describe it–death.
Maely walked past the room where Kairah lay unconscious. Jenoc had showed her where it was when he’d brought her with him to replace the guards. Guilt attempted to prick Maely’s heart, but she shoved it away. She didn’t have to worry about Kairah anymore–not that she ever had, she told herself. She hated the Allosian woman, and it was probably better than Kairah deserved to be rescued by her brother.
Jenoc.
To the same degree that Kairah infuriated her, the woman’s brother terrified her–maybe even more so. He had a beautiful face, a masculine version of Kairah’s features, but then all Allosians were said to be beautiful. In an incongruity t
hat was frightening, his voice had been gentle, almost tender while he’d been smashing her face into the marble floor, and he’d been equally brutal while invading her mind. But Maely didn’t need a psychic link to Jenoc to feel the cold rage he radiated. It was almost a palpable thing, and she’d been sure he’d been going to kill her.
That’s why it had stunned her when the man returned her ring, and offered to help her free Jek. Of course, she was required to help him in return–or else he would kill her and Jek too. He hadn’t made any pretenses otherwise. In fact, he’d explained how he could sense her use the compulsion ring–which is how he found her in the first place–and if he sensed her anywhere near the dungeons, he’d go there and kill Jek first before coming to slay her. He must’ve known she’d been weighing whether or not she could beat him down to the dungeon for he demonstrated his power to disappear and instantaneously re-appear in another place by way of spell-casting.
Maely turned a corner, nearly tripping on her servant’s dress. Damn thing’s too long! Her petite frame made finding clothing that would fit difficult. Back home in Genra she’d made all of her own dresses. Older women with fuller figures didn’t have that problem. She growled audibly, startling a pageboy who was crossing her in the hall. He pointedly looked away from Maely as he quickened his pace.
“Manners,” she whispered to herself. “Servants have manners.” They didn’t scowl, or swear or growl. She berated herself for forgetting that so easily. I can’t make slips like that or someone will know.
Jenoc had arranged for her to attend the king tonight in his sleeping quarters, standing by to wait on him should he desire food or drink, or anything else. She ground her teeth at that. Her mother had told her what kind of men kings and princes were; outwardly benevolent and noble, but as vulgar and randy in private as any drunken sailor.
Well she wouldn’t give him the chance to touch her. As soon as they were alone, she’d use her ring on him and–and command him to start a talis war, the guilty part of her groaned. She shoved it back. That wasn’t her problem. Kairah wasn’t her problem. All she needed to worry about was rescuing Jek and getting the hell out of this place. Let everyone else worry about the end of the world.
The Lure of Fools Page 41