Auguries of Dawn

by Peyton Reynolds

By the time he awoke the next morning, Knoxx was still thanking the sun and stars that the timing of the prior day’s events had occurred as they had. As it happened, he’d spoken to Flynn only an hour or so before he’d been accosted by Nathon Wythe and Taleb Okin—a confrontation that would likely have played out much differently had he not been privy to the words his commander had exchanged with Oliveah Oslund that morning.

  Consequently, he no longer needed to have any worry over those two men finding, and perhaps killing, him. Actually, the situation had been rectified far more smoothly than he could have hoped or imagined, and it was clearly because his brother had somehow brought Oliveah in on his cause. The fact that Nathon had asked about a man named Elvin Vikdal, obviously one of Devlin’s anagrams, wasn’t even as worrying as it might have been. Since only Oliveah could identify Devlin as being this man, something she clearly had no intention of doing, there remained absolutely no chance that Nathon and Taleb would ever connect the jester to any of this. Knoxx had further helped this along by distracting the two with the woes of Tyrell, a stroke of brilliance on his part if he did say so himself.

  Knoxx himself still didn’t know the deeper truth of the matter, the reason behind his brother’s interest in those two men, and had decided to remain content in his ignorance mainly to make his life easier. He was fervently hoping Devlin would not ask anything more of him, for he honestly wasn’t certain how he would react to any such requests. The warning Flynn had issued against him getting any more deeply involved had not been made lightly, and Knoxx was taking it with all the seriousness it deserved.

  It was nearly Eighth-hour by the time he left his room within The Dancing Damsel and headed downstairs in search of food. Not in the habit of waking early, he continued to yawn as he dropped himself down at a vacant table in the common area. Actually, nearly the entire inn appeared vacant—unsurprising given the hour, as most citizens of Aralexia would now be at the forum watching the third day of duels. Knoxx intended to head that way himself just as soon as he’d eaten.

  He was halfway through his buttercream pastry when he spied Flynn descending the staircase from the second floor. “What are you still doing here?” he mumbled around a mouthful.

  Flynn took him in as he reached the last few steps. “I was out all night meeting with buyers. I’ve now sold every piece but for one.”

  Knoxx nodded in understanding as he swallowed. His commander had recently retained the services of a professional gem-cutter, who’d broken down and re-fashioned the Tulan diamond into six separate pieces of jewelry. The mage was not surprised to learn Flynn was encountering little difficulty offloading them.

  “I suppose this explains why I could find no sign of you last night,” Knoxx said, reaching for his tea.

  Flynn pulled out the chair across from him and sank down. “I didn’t get in until well past Third. Why?”

  Knoxx gave a cursory glance about the room to reassure himself they were alone, then said, “I had an encounter with our two War-born acquaintances last night.”

  Flynn looked him over. “You appear without further injury, so I’m guessing our truce with Oliveah Oslund is holding.”

  “Not only that,” the mage told him, “but I’ve sicced them on Kale. Should it turn out he is the one responsible for what occurred that final night of Ardin’s Pride, I image they’ll discover some sort of proof. And if he’s not, then we’ll know to start looking elsewhere.”

  Flynn looked amused. “And how exactly did you manage this?”

  Knoxx gave a quick reiteration of the conversation he’d had with Taleb and Nathon, leaving out only Nathon’s inquiry regarding “Elvin Vikdal”. Although his commander already knew of Devlin’s involvement, Knoxx was trying to mention his brother as little as possible since Flynn remained disgruntled by the situation.

  “Excellent move setting them on Kale,” Flynn was nodding at him now. “Saves us the bother, and quite possibly the inconvenience of dying should he have caught us nosing about his business.”

  Knoxx tended to agree. Even putting aside the possibility that Kale had access to Magic, the mage had witnessed the man’s fight upon the Challenge’s opening day, and consequently lost all enthusiasm to investigate him further. Knoxx was now more than happy to just sit back and let Taleb and Nathon handle the matter.

  “It will be interesting to see if either will be chosen to face him in the games,” Flynn went on, musing. “You know, just before Kale’s match, I had a Jennite come into the tent and make a staggering wager on him to win the entire Challenge.”

  Knoxx’s eyebrows went up. “A Jennite? Could be he knows something of Kale, then. Something we don’t.”

  “I figured the same, but he wouldn’t give me any reason for his bet. Although he did appear very certain of his wager.”

  “I will be very interested in anything Taleb and Nathon manage to turn up about him,” Knoxx said.

  “So will I,” Flynn replied. “If we can prove the mess in Tyrell was his fault, perhaps we can get that ban lifted.”

  Knoxx thought that sounded fantastic, but he wasn’t hopeful. For one, the occurrence of Magic was a very difficult thing to prove, and secondly, the Justice officers within the home city of the Arts seemed determined to blame Thieves for the disaster. The mage didn’t think any of his kind would be setting foot inside that city again for a very long time.

  “Let us hope,” he said instead.

  Flynn pushed back his seat and stood. “I need to get over to the gambling tent and relieve Tishan. She wanted the afternoon off to watch the duels, and I told her I’d be there by Ninth.”

  Knoxx crammed the last of his pastry into his mouth as he got to his feet. “I’ll walk over with you.”

  They left The Dancing Damsel and started winding their way east through the city streets. There was little activity until they drew nearer the forum, as most people tended not to stray far between matches lest they miss the start of the next. Pushing their way into the dark blue tent where the Thieves conducted their gambling enterprise, Knoxx saw it was as frenzied within as ever, with scores of people fighting their way to the counter to place their bets.

  Knoxx hung back and waved at Tishan as Flynn threaded his way to relieve her. She, as well as the other four Thieves on duty, looked harried and irritated. It was very uncommon for Flynn to leave them without his supervision, and clearly his presence had been missed this morning. Knoxx couldn’t relate personally to their frustration, since he was so terrible with numbers his commander wouldn’t let him anywhere near to the figures. Tishan, on the other hand, had some skill in this area, and would be taking shifts in the tent all week long. She glided through the crowd toward him once Flynn had taken her place behind the counter.

  “This city is comprised of nothing but brutes and imbeciles,” she issued in greeting.

  Knoxx held the flap open for her and followed her outside. “Many of these people are guests to Aralexia and just here for the games, so a more accurate claim might be that Dhanen’Mar is comprised of nothing but brutes and imbeciles.”

  She started for the arena. “Or perhaps this city simply manifests such behavior.”

  Knoxx didn’t reply. Tishan absolutely despised Aralexia, and he was the only one who knew why. Armed with this knowledge, he could not argue that she had her reasons.

  “How went the matches this morning?” he asked as they began looking for seats. These were the only two duels he’d so far missed, having managed to witness all twelve that had comprised the first two days of the Challenge.

  She seemed to spot a few feet of unoccupied bench down near the field and leapt forward, knocking a chubby young man out of her way. He called an apology after her.

  “The first,” she answered, sliding triumphantly onto the bench, “was a man from Gaitlin versus a knight. The knight conquered, but did not kill.”

  Knoxx positioned himself down carefully next to her. Despite all the efforts put forth by Yal
la, the Healer of Corbit’s Canyon, his wound still pained him from time to time.

  “The second,” Tishan went on, “was between two Justice officers. And again, no resulting death.”

  Knoxx figured the audience would be growing impatient for some bloodshed, now having only three more opportunities to see it happen today.

  “Next up,” she continued, digging into her pockets, “are two Dhan’Marians.” She frowned, apparently not finding what she was looking for. “Do you have anything to snack on? I should have grabbed something before we left the marketplace.”

  Knoxx did a quick check of his person and came up empty. “What would you like? I’ll run back and get it for you.”

  “Surprise me.”

  “All right.”

  He got to his feet and began fighting the crowd back toward the market area. With Ninth-hour almost upon them, most were hurrying back to their seats to ensure they caught the start of the match. The lines at the vendors, therefore, had almost completely dried up, and in only minutes he’d procured a couple of giant, fresh-baked salted pretzels and two flagons of lemonade. He was just turning to start back into the arena when his eye caught on a sight that brought him up short.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said quietly, taking in the figure stopped and conversing with another man behind a cart selling grapes and blueberries. Knoxx’s concern then grew tenfold as he gave a closer look to the other man. And what exactly might the two of you have to discuss? He would have to warn both Flynn and his brother as quickly as possible.

  Turning on his heel, he began striding toward the gambling tent. It was now almost completely deserted within, he saw as he stepped through the flap, as most were now settled in their seats.

  “Flynn!” he called, paused just inside and jerking his head in a beckoning motion.

  Flynn looked over and spied the pretzels the mage carried. “I hope at least one of those is for me,” he said, starting over.

  “Hope is the denial of fact, I’m afraid.” He waited until the other man stopped before him and then went on in a quiet tone. “You may want to consider reinstating your guard. I just saw Aris Sylvain.”

  The Cejan’s blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Where?”

  “Here in the marketplace, just across the way.”

  Flynn pulled a knife from his waistband and made a move to start from the tent.

  Startled, Knoxx leapt after him, catching hold of his arm. “Wait! You can’t make a scene! Not here!”

  Glaring, Flynn looked back at him.

  “There’s Justice officers crawling all over the place out there. You know the Legion has been looking for any excuse to incarcerate you since you came to Dhanen’Mar, and no doubt they’d love to pinch you for a murder. Also, the identity of Sylvain’s company further impresses that any such confrontation would be a bad idea.”

  Flynn shook off his hold irritably. “And who is his company, then?”

  “Cadien Stavrakos.”

  “The royal treasurer?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Flynn paused. “You may want to share this information with your brother.”

  “I have every intention of doing just that,” Knoxx assured him.

  The Thieves’ commander was quiet for another long moment as he considered, idly rolling the handle of his knife through his fingers as he thought. “Sylvain isn’t stupid enough to try getting at me here. He knows he’ll be taken down if he tries.”

  “I would still recommend you remain vigilant. I don’t need to tell you how much he despises you. Plus, let’s not forget the fact that he’s more or less crazy.”

  “Significantly more than less,” Flynn responded dryly.

  Aris Sylvain was a man born to Thieves, with a Secondary that had never been revealed, and one who had harbored every intention of becoming the commander of the Thieves network. A native Dhan’Marian, he had made a rather notorious name for himself during his thirty years of life, being known for his sense of ruthlessness as well as his skill. When Flynn had arrived in the country four years ago, and been pledged to take the commander title, Sylvain had not reacted well. After numerous attempts on Flynn’s life, the entire Thieves network of Dhanen’Mar was called to Corbit’s Canyon to partake of an official vote, which, despite Sylvain’s threats to its citizens, Flynn won by a staggering margin. Exiled from the canyon for life, Flynn had then told Sylvain that he would kill him should he ever lay eyes upon him again.

  “He knows you oversee the gambling on the Challenge,” Knoxx said now. “So there’s no question that he knows you’re here.”

  Flynn nodded. “He’s always had balls, I’ll give him that.”

  “So how do you want to handle this?”

  “I’ll have him watched, for now.”

  Knoxx was quiet a moment, and when he spoke again his words were very soft. “If you’d like this dealt with cleanly, I’ve heard there are presently several men for hire in the city.”

  Flynn snorted. “I’d prefer to take care of this personally, although I find myself doubting your brother will leave me the chance.”

  Knoxx slowly nodded. Whatever Sylvain’s business with Cadien Stavrakos, there was a fair possibility Devlin already knew of its nature, or, if he did not, that he’d be very interested to learn of it. It was also unlikely the jester would approve, a circumstance that would not end happily for Sylvain.

  “I’m to meet up with him tomorrow, after the days’ matches,” the mage said now. “Let me find out his intentions before we take any further steps.”

  Flynn agreed, and Knoxx left the tent to rejoin Tishan. The bell-ringer was just issuing the gong that would bring the next two opponents forward as he slid back onto the bench beside her. “Here,” he said, handing her one of the pretzels and a flagon.

  She thanked him and bit into the salty dough, her eyes remaining on the field below. While an avid supporter of the games, she preferred the matches that did not end in great injury or death. The decapitation of the day before had elicited from her a grimace and proclamation of disgust. Knoxx, in turn, had nearly lost his lunch.

  Another gong commenced the third fight of the day and the clashing sounds of steel upon steel began to cut the air. Knoxx chewed mindlessly on his pretzel as he watched the combatants. While not the most exciting match-up thus far, it had its share of thrilling moments as the two Dhan’Marians swung and hacked at each other. It concluded when a sudden move by one of the men allowed him to successfully run through the chest of the other.

  Tishan frowned faintly as officers spilled onto the field to remove the body. “That makes seven dead so far. Already this seems a higher count than usual for the first round.”

  Knoxx was eyeing his brother, who was now upon the field and raising the arm of the survivor while officially declaring him the victor. “They do seem more brutal than what I recall of last year,” he admitted.

  “This entire summer season has been strange,” she observed.

  “You don’t know how true that is. I caught sight of Aris Sylvain while I was getting our pretzels.”

  She turned her head to take him in. “Did you report this to Flynn?”

  “Of course. He started after him with a knife, but I managed to remind him that it would be unwise taking such an action in Aralexia.”

  Her brows flickered in the slightest show of surprise. “That does not sound like Flynn.”

  This was true; their commander was a most level-headed man who never acted rashly.

  “I know,” he told her. “But if anyone is capable of getting under his skin, it’s Sylvain.”

  “So what are we to do about him, then?” she asked, her hazel eyes gleaming slightly.

  Knoxx paused, aware of how many people were within earshot, and then leaned in close to speak into her ear. “I saw him in the company of Stavrakos. I will find out for certain tomorrow, but it’s likely my brother is already on top of the matter.”

  She took
this in and then nodded absently, her gaze flickering briefly to the box of royal seating at the opposite side of the field.

  To prevent losing their seats, they kept to their bench and spent the next hour discussing their recent spoils while waiting for the next match to begin. Typically, Flynn cautioned his Thieves to avoid pulling any significant jobs in Aralexia during the week of the Challenge, and this year had proven no different. The reason was because their gambling web was only permitted so long as no other trouble could be traced back to them while they remained in Justice’s home city. Most found the directive inconvenient, but it was rare for any to challenge it. Those who did answered to Flynn, and in this area he tended to show little tolerance.

  Tishan admitted to having cut only a small number of purses so far this week, but that she’d found great fortune in discovering one held a pair of gold and emerald earrings, complete with matching bracelet. She figured with the right buyer she could likely retire for the next five years—not that she would, of course.

  Knoxx had so far found no comparable luck, his biggest score as yet nothing more than a few measly silver pieces.

  The fourth duel of the day began promptly at Tenth-hour, pitting a Justice officer from Commerce’s home city of Fortunia against a Jennite named Beynon Ansell. This fight was finished quickly when Ansell successfully ran his blade through the throat of the officer only minutes after the gong of the bell.

  Tishan frowned. “I am noticing a trend among the Jennites. I don’t believe any who’ve won have so far left a foe alive.”

  Knoxx simply grunted in response, for almost all of his concentration was now focused on keeping his pretzel in his stomach.

  When at last his nausea passed, his thoughts turned to the last match of the day, set to begin at Eleventh-hour. In this fight, Nathon Wythe would be facing off against a fellow Dhan’Marian, most likely a criminal. Because Tishan knew nothing of this matter, an attempt on Knoxx’s part to keep her safe, he kept his thoughts to himself as he pondered the question of whether his brother would have manipulated the match-up for or against Nathon’s favor. If the man had gained Devlin’s interest by an unfavorable circumstance, chances were he was about to be killed. Knoxx thought it far more likely, however, that this duel would see him either the victor, or ousted from the competition. He didn’t think Devlin wanted Nathon—or Taleb—dead, at least not until they’d fulfilled whatever purpose he had for them, a conclusion Knoxx based wholly on Devlin’s reaction to discovering they’d entered the games.

  The bell-ringer signaled the top of the hour and the two combatants came forward. Knoxx scrutinized Nathon, looking for signs of nervousness. He didn’t find any, but further figured that, somewhere in the surrounding audience, Oliveah Oslund was probably suffering a serious amount of distress right now.

  Nathon and his opponent took up their places and crossed blades to await the official gong. It came a moment later, and the duel began.

  Nathon stepped back and swung out, raising his shield to block his opponent’s thrust. Their blades crossed, once, twice, three times as they maneuvered in small steps over the grass. It was obvious almost instantly who held the upper hand here, and Nathon proved it just a minute later when he not only sent the other man’s sword soaring out of his hand, but when he dropped his shield to catch the weapon as it fell back to the ground.

  Interesting, Knoxx thought as his brother emerged from the section of royal seating and began making his way onto the field to declare Nathon the victor. The mage had assumed Devlin, in the interest of keeping Nathon and Taleb alive, would pair them with foes who would dominate but not kill them. But if such was the case, Devlin had made a serious miscalculation so far as this particular match was concerned, for Nathon was now moving on to the second round, where the choices for safe opponents would be drastically reduced. Knoxx figured he’d have a better chance of trying to correctly figure his brother’s motives tomorrow, once Taleb had fought.

  “That man looks familiar,” Tishan was saying now, squinting across the field to where Nathon was standing with Devlin.

  Knoxx looked at her.

  “I think I saw him at the Tulan ball,” she went on thoughtfully.

  Knoxx withheld a sigh. “I suppose it is possible he was in attendance,” he said, hoping she would drop the matter.

  Mercifully, she did, her eyes now back to lingering upon the seats of the royal council.

  “Let’s go,” she then told him shortly, rising to her feet. Knoxx followed after her wordlessly, finding himself much looking forward to meeting up with his brother the following day.

  Chapter 32