“Locating the urris, in and of itself, would be a significant advance in our knowledge of them.” Sketkee’s eyes followed Viktik as he walked to stand near the forge. “What they might teach us in general would be invaluable, regardless of whether they revealed the secrets of the device.”
Kadmallin watched Viktik pick a long shaft of iron from the coals, the first hand-length glowing red-white. He calmed his breath and focused his thoughts as he did when entering a fight. He might not be able to defend himself, but he could brace his mind.
“How did you know I had the device?” Viktik held the iron rod casually in one hand. “How did you know to arrive the day after I found it?”
“Good fortune and bad,” Sketkee said. “We had heard a rumor that the merchant you met with had an interesting artifact that matched the description of the devices. Unfortunately, by the time we were able to track him down, you had already made contact with him. We witnessed your exchange at the crossroads and followed you here.”
“That seems…” Viktik paused. “…implausible.”
“The truth is often the most difficult thing to believe because it presents simplicity where the mind seeks complexity.” Sketkee’s tone indicated that she quoted from some rakthor philosopher, but Kadmallin did not recognize the words.
“I am tempted to use this on your human to determine the truthfulness of your statements.” Viktik pointed the glowing tip of the shaft of iron at Kadmallin.
Kadmallin ignored the hot metal warming the air near his face and concentrated on Viktik. He preferred to hope the ambassador bluffed, but discerning rakthor facial expressions could prove difficult, even for someone with as much experience as Kadmallin.
“Inflicting pain on him will not change the facts.” Sketkee glanced at Kadmallin, her expression unreadable.
“No, but it may confirm the facts.” Viktik held the hot metal near Kadmallin’s forehead.
Kadmallin had no desire to have a scar in the middle of his head, and even less desire to experience the pain that would grant him that wound. The only way to avoid that result would be for Sketkee to admit the truth of the situation. He saw her begin to open her mouth when an alternative occurred to him. A small amount of surprise and misdirection might achieve the same ends.
“Maybe it’s not a device.” Kadmallin spoke in rakthorian with a southern accent.
Viktik stepped back, clearly puzzled, whether by Kadmallin’s words or the fact that he spoke to them in rakthorian, Kadmallin could not tell.
“I suspected you might understand the language, but not that you spoke it.” Viktik turned to Sketkee. “What does he mean?”
“I have no idea.” Sketkee’s surprise at Kadmallin’s pronouncement appeared entirely genuine.
“I mean, possibly neither of you are as bright as you like to think.” Kadmallin looked between Viktik and Sketkee. “You find a couple a glass spheres with a bunch of shiny bits inside, and you immediately assume they must be mechanical devices that do something made by the urris or someone else with vastly superior technical skill.”
“What other deduction is possible?” Viktik lowered the metal shaft in his hand, but stepped closer to Kadmallin.
“You two must be the worst ambassadors in the history of the Sun Realm.” Kadmallin laughed. A little louder than he’d intended, but he found himself enjoying the opportunity before him more than he’d expected. “You have both traveled to other realms, seen other peoples, spent time here in the Iron Realm with humans. Did it not occur to either of you that instead of a device made to do something, the crystals might simply be pieces of art meant to be pretty to look at?”
Sketkee and Viktik looked at each other in a silence that stretched on until Kadmallin laughed aloud again.
“I had not considered that possibility.” Sketkee frowned and looked down.
“Neither, I admit, had I.” Viktik looked from Kadmallin to Sketkee. “However, there is only one way to determine the accuracy of the human’s suggestion, and that is to disassemble the crystal and examine the contents within.”
Kadmallin watched as Viktik placed the iron shaft back in the forge and picked up a wide headed hammer. He gestured to one of the guards who brought forth a small black bag containing the device. Kadmallin winced as Viktik removed the crystal and held it in his hand, the other gripping the handle of the hammer.
“Do not do that.” Sketkee’s voice rang loudly.
Kadmallin did not know if the rakthor ambassador attempted to bluff them into revealing the depth of their deception, or if he really intended to follow through with such a crude investigative method.
“It was worth a try.” Kadmallin sighed and turned to Sketkee, still speaking in rakthorian. “Tell him. If he smashes it, you’ve lost everything. And if he sticks me with that hot iron, I’ll tell him everything. We don’t have any choice.”
“What does the human mean?” Viktik walked toward Sketkee.
“The device is real.” Sketkee glanced at Kadmallin. He wondered what she intended to convey with that look, but could not easily tell. Annoyance? Gratitude? Relief? He had no more time to ponder as she turned back to Viktik.
“That is the first device you found,” Sketkee said. “The only device. I did steal it before I fled. We were traveling with pilgrims, as I claimed, and we were attacked by bandits. However, the bandits stole the device and sold it to the merchant from whom you purchased it. We tracked the device to you.”
“If this is the one and only device, then it has changed.” Viktik sat the hammer down and held the device in both hands as he stared at it.
“Indeed.” Sketkee’s eyes followed the crystal in Viktik’s hands as he held it up to the light of a nearby lantern. “The device has altered its internal configuration, and that is why you will take it to the Forbidden Realm and why you will bring me along to study it.”
“It would make more sense to kill you or take you back to Taknaht to face charges for the theft.” Viktik lowered the crystal from the light.
“The device has responded to something that induced it to change, something that has happened the last few days, something that had happened here in the Iron Realm.” Sketkee stared at Viktik, her face calm but filled with certainty. “I suspect that something to do with the pilgrims, and the phenomenon associated with them, has caused the alteration in the device. I also suspect that it will continue to do so as future events unfold, particularly once it is again in the Forbidden Realm. You do not possess the skill or knowledge to unlock the device’s secrets. I do. You will keep me alive because you require my talents. You will keep Kadmallin alive because I require his. If you make haste, we can be on the road by midday, if not sooner.”
Kadmallin found himself grinning as Sketkee spoke. He would not voice or define his feelings for her. The object of such potential affection could not return it, and she simply did not possess the ability to experience such things the way a human might. It did not change the nature of his heart, but he would not speak of his feelings, even to himself. So he grinned, enjoying as he always did, her confidence when filled with a rational passion for an idea.
Viktik said no more, staring at them for a moment longer before walking back out into the courtyard. The guards remained outside, leaving Kadmallin and Sketkee hanging — two slabs of meat trussed but still alive.
“That went better than we expected,” Kadmallin said in whispered Punderrese.
“Yes, with an admirable distraction in the middle.” Sketkee gave him an approving look. “I truly never did consider that it might be a piece of art.”
“I’d hoped he’d accept the idea and let us go,” Kadmallin said. “Sorry to insult your ambassadorial skills.”
“I perceived no real offense. It was a good bluff were it not for the fact that he wishes to learn the secrets of the device not in order to gain knowledge from it, but to gain power.” Sketkee looked out the doorway to where Viktik had disappeared into the darkness.
“Then we must make sure th
at doesn’t happen.” Kadmallin thought about what Viktik might gain in political influence in the Sun Realm for mastering the device, regardless of the powers the crystal might hold. If Sketkee’s suspicion that the device might play some part in the events driving the pilgrims toward the Forbidden Realm held true, it also implied a great potential in the device. He realized, suddenly, that it might one day be he and Sketkee who would need to smash the device with a hammer.
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THE WITNESS
ONDROMEAD
CRUMBS OF crust, caught in the stiff wind, blew across the planks of the old dock, and fell into the waters to be hungrily eaten by a cluster of sea ducks bobbing atop the rhythmic waves, moonlight reflecting in ripples beneath their feathers. Ondromead noted the birds eating the water-sopped bread as Hashel munched on the large dinbao loaf that provided the source of the bird’s meal. They sat on crates along the docks of the free city of Tanjii, watching the men unload one last vessel by lantern light. A wide ship with wider sails disgorged its cargo of melons to take on a shipment of spices and glazed bowls.
The dock master, a man with short trimmed gray hair atop his head and below his chin, manufactured order from the chaos, holding a chalk and slate in one hand while waving to men with the other as he shouted the destination of each item. Ondromead found the process fascinating, as he always did. He had observed this dance of men and cargo all afternoon and past sunset, and it filled him with a sense of calm to see work done on such a scale with clear efficiency. He enjoyed it more than seeing cathedrals or palaces being constructed. Those required multiple viewings over many years to observe the results of the labors devoted to them. This vessel would be loaded in another hour, ready to sail once more.
“A fine day for witnessing,” he said aloud to Hashel. He often found himself speaking for the two of them, as the boy did not contribute to conversation. “I wonder what we shall see. The wrong crate set upon a ship and sailed to an unlikely destination perhaps. Or smugglers caught attempting to circumvent the tariffs. Or the arrival of a vessel all had thought lost.”
He sliced a thin piece of cheese from the large hunk sitting on a wooden crate between himself and Hashel. The blade of the small knife passed easily through the tough rind of the cheese. The blade never dulled. He’d had it as long as the book and the ink well and quill. The cheese and bread, however, had been picked up while walking through the city market earlier that afternoon. He’d walked the streets of Tanjii many times, but never with someone at his side. He had told Hashel the history of the city and the events he had witnessed there over the years, from the tsunami that had flooded the streets and nearly destroyed the walls 535 years prior, to the Tanshen invasion 322 years ago, and the great earthquake three generations past that closed off the valley for more than a year.
After so many events and so many years, he had developed a sense of when he needed to be in a particular place to see what he had been placed there to observe. He’d sensed an undefinable pull to the city docks around later afternoon. As he sat eating his cheese, watching the boy inadvertently feeding the ducks, he noted two men walking along the pier from opposite directions. He knew they would stop nearby the same way he knew to remove the book and ink and quill from his bag. He did not worry about being seen. Few people noticed him during the act of witnessing and recording an event.
“It seems our repast is over and our work has begun.” Ondromead explained as he opened the book to a fresh page. Hashel watched him with a calm curiosity, turning his head to the men nearby. “That man on the left I’ve seen before. He sits on the Circle of Elders.”
“Kuth-Von.” The second man, slightly portly and well dressed in robes of red and green, bowed to the first man.
“Kai-Mando, what brings you to my docks?” Kuth-Von did not return the bow, but smiled broadly at the second man.
“I thought they were the city’s docks.” Kai-Mando smiled back at Kuth-Von.
“The difference is indistinguishable,” Kuth-Von said.
“Just so.” Kai-Mando smiled wider.
“Checking on your investments?” Kuth-Von asked. “We see few bankers here by the water.”
“My investments here are not what concern me,” Kai-Mando said. He looked past Kuth-Von and the docks, up the shoreline of the coast beyond the city.
“It was only one ship and not the most expensive of their fleet.” Kuth-Von looked concerned, but not overly so.
Ondromead wondered what ship and what fleet they spoke of, and what had happened that it might lead to him witnessing this conversation.
“One ship set aflame can set others to fire.” Kai-Mando gripped his hands together.
“True,” Kuth-Von said. “However, one ship set to fire can prevent a city from burning.”
“I should think the opposite to be true, considering what has transpired and what the demon woman has threatened.” Kai-Mando glanced again up the coast. “My profits on this venture of yours are thin enough as it is without her fleet becoming a pyre to melt my coin.”
“You mistake my meaning,” Kuth-Von said, his smile returning. “There is more than one manner of profiting from this venture, as you call it.”
“I care about the profit that keeps my vaults filled,” Kai-Mando said.
“That profit is encompassed in my calculations,” Kuth-Von replied. “Other factors are included as well. The Shen dominions are rekindling the war. You have no doubt heard that Tanshen troops have crossed the border. I believe we will see a resumption of full open conflict between the Shen north and south. And, as always, this will excite the Zatolin and Ketolin fanatics in our own city. We have seen this tear our home apart in the past. Houses and business burned. People dragged into the street and stoned. Retaliation following retaliation. The city soldiers caught between factions set to kill one another. A diversion will help them forget their animosity toward one another.”
“A diversion?” Kai-Mando asked.
“I did not encourage the Circle of Elders to accept the heretic prophet’s proposal because I felt we had no choice,” Kuth-Von said. “No, she unwittingly helped us solve a problem that we have struggled with for centuries. How to keep the two Kam-Djen sects from each other’s throats. The Daeshen and Tanshen armies will be too busy fighting each other to worry that we allow heretics to pass through our walls and help fund their journey to the Forbidden Realm. And while these pilgrims cross our gates on their way to their new village up the coast, we profit in coin and stability. What better way to keep the most rabid elements of the Zatolin and Ketolin factions from burning our city attempting to mimic the war between the dominions than to give them something else to burn?”
“Yes, the burning of a single heretic ship will cost me far less than the burning of our city streets.” Kai-Mando nodded to Kuth-Von. “We are very fortunate to have your wisdom to guide the Circle and the city.”
“You are more fortunate to have my funds available to your bank,” Kuth-Von said. “That is what you came to request, is it not?”
“Perceptive as well as wise.” Kai-Mando bowed once more.
“I will back the purchase of a new vessel through you,” Kuth-Von said. “The heretics must not know of my involvement, nor must anyone else.”
“I assure you of my discretion,” Kai-Mando said. “Thank you.”
“Whatever the city requires.” Kuth-Von nodded to the shorter man and turned, walking back along the docks toward a warehouse.
The banker named Kai-Mando watched Kuth-Von for a moment, then turned and walked back along the pier toward the gate that led into the city. Ondromead closed the book and returned it to the satchel with the ink and quill. He had discovered countless years ago that he did not need to let the ink dry before closing the pages. The ink from the inexhaustible bottle never smudged. He saw a ship preparing to leave dock and smiled as an idea bloomed in his mind.
“Have you ever been to sea?” Ondromead put one hand on
Hashel’s shoulder and used the other to point to the ship. The boy shook his head. “How would you like to see the city at night from a ship at sail?” The boy nodded. “Then let us see if anyone notices an old man and a boy walking aboard.”
Ondromead and Hashel gathered up the remnants of their meal, hefted their bags over their shoulders, and started down the pier toward a ship that looked ready to depart. The ships often left the dock at night to anchor in the harbor before setting sail in the morning. It made clearing a busy pier come daybreak unnecessary and ensured the crew did not get lost while drinking and carousing in the city. He did not worry that anyone would stop them stowing away. He had learned how and when to best board a ship over the years. And it did not matter if they were eventually discovered, for they would not be aboard come morning.
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THE THRONE
TONKEN-WU
TWO STEWARDS walked side by side, chatting of the previous day’s events as they wound through the garden paths, trees and flowers painted in the golden shades of early morning. The garden master and his two apprentices dug in the soft soil near a labyrinth of flowers, each corridor lined with blooms of a different color, cool blues and purples along the outer rim and warm oranges and reds at the center. Three cook’s maids from the palace kitchens picked herbs from a small plot planted for that purpose. The palace physician and herbalist did the same from a more medicinal plot across from them. Two lesser tahns lounged on a balcony, no doubt plotting their futures and the downfall of a common rival.
A window stood open three stories above the garden, the shadows within providing a potential hiding place for an archer of skill. The tahneff, Rin-Lahee, intended bride of the zhan, walked with her two ladies-in-waiting through the flagstone garden paths. The zhan himself sat on a bench, discussing matters of state with Prime Councilor Kao-Rhee.
The Dragon Star (Realms of Shadow and Grace: Volume 1) Page 68