Book 3: Chapter Thirty

Shavala accompanied the group that went back into the mountain, but peeled away when they reached the palace. She wanted to pay another visit to the room with the glowing mushrooms and moths, to take notes on the unusual lifeforms for her book.

When she got there, though, she discovered to her dismay that the moths were lethargic, hardly showing any interest in the mage-light lantern she carried. Most didn’t even leave their perches.

She set the lantern down so she could slip a finger underneath one of the creatures, lifting it off of the mushroom where it had been resting. Examining it with her elder senses, she didn’t notice anything wrong, but it was difficult to learn anything useful about insects that way, especially unfamiliar ones. She brought her hand back down to the mushroom and let the moth climb off her finger.

The light from the lantern had hidden the luminescent glow, giving her a good closeup view of the mushroom cap. It was wrinkled. Glancing around the room, she realized they all were. They’d been smooth the day before, but now they were wilting, drying out.

It must have been the staff that had kept the enclosed ecosystem alive, and without it, the strange room couldn’t continue as it was. If she didn’t return the staff to its spot, something unique and special would be destroyed. But if she left it, what would stop someone else from coming along and taking it?

Maybe there was another way. Most of the visions the staff had shown her followed a similar theme—restoring plant life or creating a new environment for it. The staff had already built this environment on its own. Could she find a way to make it permanent?

With her elder senses, she delved deep into the mushrooms, the lichens, and the mosses, following them into the earth. She knew now, somehow, that the soil hadn’t been present in the room originally. The first plants had grown from nothing, and then died and decomposed, thus supporting future generations.

The soil was nearly self-sustaining at this point, but there was no source of water in the room. Was it the staff itself that provided the moisture that allowed everything to live?

The visions hadn’t given any indication of how the staff did what it did, or how the bearers had controlled it. Or even if they had controlled it.

Shavala examined it with her elder senses. It felt like a normal tershaya scaffold branch, but small enough that it was either from a young tree or near the top of an old one. The bark and lateral branches had been removed by someone who knew what they were doing, leaving the wood uneven but smooth. The collar—the larger knobby end of the branch, where it had been removed from the tree—had been carefully harvested to keep the wood alive even as it dried out and hardened. Tershaya wood could be easily shaped while it was fresh, and the hardened form would remain sturdy for hundreds of years afterward even if the wood was dead. If the wood remained alive, it could last indefinitely.

The staff didn’t offer any clues, so she returned her attention to the room. Perhaps she could handle the problem on her own. Moisture could be pulled from the air, and, in fact, that’s where it seemed to be coming from. Was there a source she could use to ensure it remained there? Some hidden drip of water she’d missed before? If so, she still couldn’t find it.

Could she cast a spell to duplicate what the staff had been doing? She couldn’t stay here to maintain it, but what if she could cause an ongoing reaction, like the wind magic Sarette had taught her? Of course, that had only lasted for moments, and here she needed something that would endure for years. It seemed unlikely to work, but perhaps the staff had already set everything up, and she could just reactivate it.

She pulled moisture from the corridor outside the room, increasing the humidity inside. That wouldn’t be enough. She stretched farther, but not too far. Too dry and the mushrooms would continue to wilt; too humid and the moths wouldn’t be able to fly. And even if she came up with the right balance, how could she ensure it would stay that way after she was gone?

There was a sudden pulling sensation, as if control of the spell was being wrested away from her. It was like using her elder senses while another druid was nearby, manipulating the elements she was sensing. A new spell was being crafted, but she could only follow a small part of it. The elder magic she’d started with was still present, but it was mixed in with something else that she didn’t recognize.

The two magics writhed and roiled in her mind, simultaneously fighting with and complementing each other. They battled to a standstill, a balance that would keep the moisture at its previous level. Somehow Shavala knew it wouldn’t last forever—the room wasn’t sustainable on its own—but it would last for a long while. When the time was right, she could return to check on it again.

“Thank you,” she told the staff. It couldn’t understand her, but it felt appropriate to say.

She left the room and closed the door behind her, then went to find the others.

#

Ellerie had to agree with Bobo’s assessment—the chambers at the northwest corner of the palace could only have been the royal quarters. They were the largest residential quarters in the palace, and the remnants of the furnishings suggested the rooms had been well appointed at one time.

She peered into a partly collapsed wooden wardrobe. None of the clothing remained, but the layer of grime caking the bottom suggested something had been left in there when the place was abandoned. A stone-like nodule lay half embedded in the detritus. Ellerie picked it up and wiped off the dirt, revealing a rounded button made of gold.

She handed it to Marco, who was examining the two figurines Bobo had mentioned. They rested on a small oval table, with the shards of the other figurines scattered nearby.

“Here,” she said. “There are probably more buttons if you want to dig for them.”

“I’m more interested in these at the moment,” the factor said, lifting the owl statuette.

“Leave those,” Corec said as he passed by. “You can come back for them another time. I need you to help carry some other things out today.”

Marco frowned but returned the figurine to its place. He was always more reluctant to argue with Corec than with Ellerie.

Bobo showed the group to the locked door at the rear of the chambers, another of the round doors on rails. Corec touched the metal plate, and was then able to roll the door to the right.

Behind it was a small alcove divided into two sections. On the left side, a suit of dull, brownish-gray plate armor hung in place on an armor stand. Behind it, three weapons lay horizontally on a rack. The top two were longswords, one bejeweled and ornate, still in a scabbard made of a silvery metal with gold filigree, while the other was plain and unadorned. Its own scabbard appeared to have deteriorated, but there were metal bands still hanging from the blade, showing that there had once been one. The third weapon was some kind of long-handled sledgehammer made from the same dull metal as the armor.

The right side of the alcove was different. A permanent mage light, like those near the animal statues, hung from the ceiling. Instead of an armor stand, there was a clothing stand with simulated shoulders and torso, for clothing that was too delicate to store any other way without losing its shape. Ellerie had once used similar stands to hold her robes of state. A few wisps of cloth still dangled from it, but when she tried to touch one of the pieces, it fell apart in her hand.

There was a shelf set against the wall, and on it was a small jewelry stand displaying an intricate platinum necklace set with dozens of small, pale blue diamonds and darker blue sapphires. Ellerie had seen plenty of extravagant jewelry during her time in Terevas, but the only necklace she’d ever seen that surpassed this one was a piece her mother had commissioned for her own coronation.

But the necklace didn’t hold Ellerie’s attention. Right next to it were two books. She carefully ran her finger along the spine of the nearest, hoping it wouldn’t disintegrate. It seemed to be intact. She quickly cast a spell, and under her arcane sight, the two books glowed with an enchantment similar to a preservation warding, the same warding many wizards used to protect their spell books.

She opened the first one and thumbed through it, releasing her arcane sight so she could see the pages better. It really was a spell book, but the preamble notes for each spell were written in the Ancient tongue, so she couldn’t read them to learn what the spells did. She’d need more time to decipher it.

The second book had a title written across the front, which was unusual for spell books. Opening it, instead of spells, she found page after page of notes in cramped handwriting, intermixed with symbols, numbers, and formulae. At the very end, she finally found pages written in the wizard language, but there were fewer spells than she’d expected.

She passed the book to Bobo. “Can you read that?” she asked him, showing him the cover.

“Hmm, foundational? No. Fundamental Materials, I think.”

“What does it mean?”

Bobo flipped through the first few pages. “Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t recognize half these words. Are they even words?” He stopped on a page. “Wait, I’ve seen this symbol before. It’s an abbreviation that’s sometimes used for iron. Do all these symbols refer to different metals or minerals?”

“I don’t know. Will you help me translate it? The parts that aren’t spells, I mean?”

“Certainly.” Then he chuckled. “I’d always hoped to find books or writings that had somehow survived, but now that we found one of the people themselves, a book is almost a letdown.”

“She’s not very talkative so far,” Ellerie reminded him. “The books may be more informative.”

“Are these warded?” Corec asked from behind them.

Ellerie turned around. Corec’s eyes had gone dark from his own arcane sight, and he was staring at the armor and weapons. She cast her spell again to see what he was looking at, and found that the hammer and the suit of armor both glowed with complex enchantments.

“Yes, they are,” she said.

“Do you think they’re safe to touch?”

Ellerie looked them over carefully. She’d been trying to teach herself what the different types of wards looked like, but it was difficult without access to the wizardry archive in the Glass Palace. She’d learned as much as she could from the warding spells in her own spell book and the partial book she’d purchased in Tyrsall, and from examining Corec’s sword, but there were a lot of different warding spells and she didn’t know them all.

“The ward on the armor looks dangerous,” she said. “I think you should leave it there. I don’t think the hammer will hurt you.”

“It’s a maul,” he replied. “They’re useful for dealing with heavy armor, but I’ve never seen anyone actually use one before. Warhammers and pole weapons are more practical.”

“Why would they layer so many enchantments on a weapon that’s not used very much? It looks as complicated as your sword.”

“Maybe they were more common back then,” he said, grasping the long handle in both hands and lifting. “It’s heavier than I thought it would be. It’s got to be close to thirty pounds. I don’t think anyone could swing this in the middle of a fight. It would throw you off balance.”

A humming sound came out of nowhere, and then the weapon began glowing with a faint yellow light. Sparks swirled around Corec’s hands and then up his arms before disappearing.

“Bloody hell,” he said, letting go of the weapon. It fell to the floor with a clang, and the light and the sparks slowly faded away. “Is it another bonded weapon?”

“I don’t know how to tell,” Ellerie said. “Did Hildra show you?”

“I didn’t think to ask. Bobo, can you pick it up?”

Bobo frowned. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“It didn’t hurt me. I just don’t want to deal with it if it’s anything like the sword.”

“I’ll try,” Boktar offered. He’d been crowding around the door with Marco and Nedley. He nudged Bobo out of the way and lifted the maul. “Oof, that’s more than thirty pounds.” It started humming and glowing again, and then more yellow sparks streaked from the head of the weapon to where Corec was standing. Straining, Boktar said, “It’s getting heavier. I can’t carry it anymore.” He set it back down.

“Why did it … ?” Corec said, looking down at his hands as the sparks faded away again. He picked up the hammer by its handle. “It feels the same as before.” He ignored the lights as they started up for a third time.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“It must be like your sword, too heavy for anyone else to carry,” Ellerie said. “You’ll have to haul it out.”

“Maybe some other time.” He placed the maul back on its stand. “I still need to stop by the armory before we head back.”

Marco had slipped into the room and was examining the necklace. He started to reach for it, then stopped. “Is this safe?” he asked.

“It’s not enchanted,” Ellerie said. “It looks expensive, though.”

“If the gems are real, yes,” he said, slipping the necklace into his coat pocket.

It pained Ellerie to see another piece of art removed from the city, but she didn’t say anything. If she wanted to convince Varsin and the other investors to agree to her plan, they would first need to make a solid profit on the expedition.

Marco reached for the bejeweled sword, but Corec stopped him.

“You’re going to need your hands free for real weapons, remember? Not gaudy junk.”

#

“Leonis, welcome back to Fort Northtower. I trust you have good news?” Rusol had chosen his words carefully to make it clear he was an equal. Descendant or not, he had no intention of being subservient to the other man.

“Right to the point, I see,” Leonis replied. “You seem to be in a better mood now than you were the last time we met.”

“I’ll admit, your plan came as quite a shock. I needed some time to consider it.”

“And you’re in agreement?”

“I am,” Rusol said. “Have the other wardens decided to participate?” What he really wanted to know was whether Leonis had spoken to the First.

“Emperor Kono declined the invitation, and I don’t know if my message ever reached the stoneborn woman. The First prefers not to travel, but he’s agreed to take part through the dream. He sent a message, of sorts, requesting a dream meeting with any participants a week from now. I’m not sure why he didn’t reach out directly, but it’s the first time he’s responded in years, so we need to make use of it.”

A week. One week until the First would tell Leonis that Rusol was demonborn. The plan was already in motion, but Rusol wished there was more time to prepare. With just one week to go, it had to happen as soon as possible. It was a pity he’d only be able to target a single warden, but perhaps it was better—safer—this way. With fewer targets, there was less of a chance of something going wrong.

“I can remain here for a week. Any longer than that may be difficult.” Best not to seem too eager. “I do have duties back in Telfort, of course. But, since we’re here, we should make use of the time. The priests have invited us to dine with the order tonight, but perhaps tomorrow we can have a private meal to discuss other ways in which Larso and Blue Vale can support each other. Just the two of us and our bondmates. Living in Telfort, it’s not often I get a chance to speak freely.”

“You brought your bondmates this time?”

“Two of them—a pair of wizards. I hope that won’t be a problem.” Rusol already knew from Sir Barat that Leonis had once again brought along eight priests of Pallisur.

“Allowances must be made when dealing with wardens. Do they know what we’re attempting?”

“No, only that it’s important.”

Leonis smirked. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t speak too freely, but yes, I agree.”

After the other warden left, Rusol sought out Priest Calwell and Sir Barat, who’d returned to Calwell’s office after completing the tasks he’d assigned them. Both men were standing and staring ahead aimlessly, with glassy-eyed expressions on their faces. Rusol was getting better at manipulating minds, but his touch still wasn’t as deft as his father’s.

“Is it done?” he asked them.

It was Barat who replied. “Your other two guests entered the fort disguised as ale merchants, and are now in the suite you selected. The two servants you spoke to earlier then drove their wagon away, wearing your guests’ cloaks. They returned on foot dressed as themselves. I don’t believe any of Leonis’s men took notice.”

“Good. Calwell, set up a private supper for tomorrow, in the small formal dining hall with the musicians’ balcony, but don’t invite any musicians. I’ll be attending, along with Leonis and his companions, and the two guests that entered the fort with me. Not the other two. Find out which servers will be working, and then bring them to me in my chambers. I have a little something extra for them to add to one of the dishes.” Rusol and his bondmates would then just need to avoid that dish during the meal and wait for the poison to take effect. “When you’re done with your tasks, I want you both to forget anything unusual I’ve said or asked you to do. It’s been a normal day, with nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Priest Calwell bowed, then left to complete his final task.

Barat stood in place for a moment more, then winced and put his fingers to his temple. “I apologize, Your Highness. I didn’t hear what you just said.”

“It was nothing, Sir Barat, but you look pale. Perhaps you should go see one of the healers.”

“I … Yes, Your Highness. As you command.”

Alone, Rusol went over the plan in his mind one last time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

It was a pity he’d had to leave Yassi behind in Telfort so soon after their wedding, but she’d be useless in a fight, and she’d have spent the whole trip finding new ways to anger him. Even when he ordered her to pretend to be happy, there was always that look of sorrow and disappointment in her eyes—the look she reserved just for him.

Of his remaining four bondmates, the biggest question was whether Jasper would be of any help. He’d been an old man before Rusol had bonded him, and the warden bond didn’t restore youth; it merely allowed the bearers to keep what youth they still had. More importantly, he was new to combat spells—he’d never had the desire nor the strength to learn them before. But he’d been a warden’s bondmate for nearly four years now, and that would provide the strength. As for desire, Rusol’s orders eliminated the need for that.

Being in Telfort, though, they’d had a difficult time getting their hands on useful spells. Their luck didn’t improve until Rusol had bonded Rodulf, his newest bondmate. The boy—he was just eighteen—had stolen two spell books from his teacher before running away from his apprenticeship in Matagor. The books included a variety of different types of war magic. Rusol had ordered both wizards to learn as many of the combat spells as they could.

It was a gamble, but Jasper and Rodulf were only meant to serve as a distraction. If they did well, he could give them more responsibility in the future. He left Calwell’s office to find Kolvi and Magnus in the suite where they’d been hidden away, to give them the final details.

#

Hiking into the barrens alone gave Razai a chance to clear her head. It had been years since she’d spent so much time with so many people. Working for the seaborn and later for Renny, she’d always had nights to herself, and one day off each week. And even when she was working, she was on her own in some ways, responsible for making the decisions on how best to protect her clients.

She liked working alone. It meant she didn’t have to deal with other people’s stupidity. The last time she’d worked with a crew was on the Valara job where she’d met Vash. That group had spent a lot of time together, but mostly just because none of them had trusted any of the others. There had only been six of them, the job had taken less than two weeks, and when they were done, they’d all gone their separate ways.

Now, though, it had been months with the same people and she was getting soft. She had someone to share watch shifts with, someone to prepare her meals, even someone who made sure her horse was fed and watered. Marco paid her promptly each week, and there was little to spend that money on since most of her expenses were taken care of.

Plus, in all the time she’d been traveling with the group, she’d only been in a single fight. Other than the incident outside Tir Shar, the only battles she’d had to deal with were Marco and Ellerie arguing with each other about the expedition’s budget.

If things continued on like this, she would lose her edge. But perhaps that was about to change.

She kept still as the scout passed by. He didn’t notice her presence. She was invisible, but that was no excuse for his inattention. Although the ground was hard-packed, there was enough dust layered over the top that she’d left faint tracks behind her. Even with the sun setting, he should have noticed her trail, but he never looked down. Instead, he trudged to the nearest rise and aimed a spyglass toward the mountain.

That suggested potential trouble. Whether these people knew Razai’s companions were at the mountain or not, they were clearly headed that way themselves. Maybe they only intended to pass by, but if they noticed people in the ruins, their plans might change.

Still, there was nothing yet to indicate their intentions. She had to get closer. The scout returned the way he’d come, and once he’d passed out of sight, she released her invisibility spell and followed him, stepping in his tracks.

The last time she’d been on high enough ground to catch sight of the visitors, they’d stopped to make camp, so it wouldn’t take long to reach them. With the sky darkening, she dropped the illusionary tan and brown robe she’d donned. At night, her own clothing—a mix of black and gray—would be better suited to the task of sneaking around.

Razai heard the camp before she saw it, the typical rowdiness of guardsmen without enough to occupy their time. They weren’t drunk, though, which was a shame. Her task would be easier if they’d been drinking.

She crouched low and crept toward the camp. When she was close enough to see movement, she cast her invisibility spell, then inched forward slowly, waiting for full dark. She stopped a safe distance from the nearest tents, far enough out that no one would run into her by accident.

The camp was much as Leena had described it, with numerous groups of people—all men as far as Razai could tell—scattered around talking and eating. There were three mage lights this time, though. There was one hovering above a tent in the center of camp, as Leena had mentioned, but now there were two more, illuminating the largest clusters of people. With no fires, perhaps the men had complained about the limited light from the waning moon.

There was a commotion ahead, an older man in plain garb berating a group of armed men. One of the guardsmen argued back, and then the group as a whole turned away, apparently deciding to ignore whatever had been said.

Razai had only learned a few words of Nysan, but it seemed that the first man was angry the guards hadn’t posted a watch yet, while the guards felt it could wait until later. In a place this empty, there was little need to start a watch shift while everyone was still awake, but the first man seemed to feel the others weren’t taking their duties seriously. If they were anything like the scout, Razai couldn’t blame him.

He finally walked off in a huff, heading almost straight for her—apparently intending to keep watch himself. She edged away from him, but as he passed by, she caught sight of the knife strapped to his belt. It had a snake etched onto the hilt.

Her grip tightened on her own knives. This man belonged to the group that had killed Leena’s parents. If she killed him and dragged his body away, she could take his place in the camp. It would give her a recognizable face, and she wouldn’t be at risk of the original suddenly showing up. It would also mean she wouldn’t have to waste time dealing with her invisibility spell.

But how long could she keep up the illusion when surrounded by others? She didn’t speak enough of the language to pass as a local, and she hadn’t heard his normal tone of voice enough to replicate it. Besides, once she left and people discovered he was missing, it would raise an alert.

No, she’d have to let him go for now. But just for now.

While it was too risky to truly masquerade as him, she could use his clothing and appearance as a model to create a new disguise. With a camp this large, even if everyone knew everyone else by sight, they likely wouldn’t pay too much attention to someone hurrying by in the dark.

She switched to the new disguise, using the face from her old Aden disguise as a shortcut. As soon as the man with the knife was far enough away, facing the other direction, she dropped her invisibility spell and quickly strode into the camp. She stuck to the shadows, sneaking between tents and keeping away from the mage lights as much as possible.

When she reached the large tent in the center of camp, she switched back to her invisibility spell. Listening through the canvas, she could hear parts of a murmured conversation, but they were speaking Nysan. She couldn’t make out enough words to understand what they were saying.

If she could get inside the tent, she could look to see if anything had been written down. Unfortunately, the front flap was closed and she couldn’t figure out a way to enter without being noticed. Perhaps the occupants would leave soon, allowing her to snoop around.

Then, the Sanvari man Leena had mentioned strode over to the tent and called to someone inside.

A middle-aged bald man lifted the flap from the inside, then exited the tent. He muttered the words to a spell and added a second mage light above the tent, making the area brighter. The wizard.

“Where is she now, Sanvarite?” he asked in badly accented trade tongue. “Has she disappeared beyond your reach again?”

The Sanvari man scowled. “Nowhere is beyond my reach. Someone’s been warding her, but not today. Today, she’s mostly stayed in the same place, about a mile and a half southeast of her previous location. I did detect her in Aencyr once, but she returned quickly, as usual.”

They could only be referring to Leena.

“Then we’ll find her tomorrow.”

“Find her? You don’t bring an army to find someone. How do you think you’re going to kill her when she can disappear the moment she sees you?”

Two cowled forms came from the tent to join them, their faces half-hidden within the hoods of their robes. Razai’s skin prickled when she saw them. Priests. Or trueborn, like Treya—though Treya was masquerading as a priest for some reason. Could these two sense Razai the way she could sense them? Some priests could.

One spoke. “She is protected by the others. Even if she gets away, we can still kill her protectors. It will then be easier to take her the next time you track her down.”

“And killing her is secondary,” said the other. “Our Lord has sent us a new vision, a more urgent task. There’s something here in the barrens we must find and destroy, and something else we must take for ourselves.”

What lord was he referring to? The gods didn’t involve themselves this closely in the mortal realm, but who else could send a vision?

Too dangerous, the whispers said in her mind. Leave quickly.

“What are they?” the Sanvari man asked the two priests.

“We’ll know when it’s time, and then you’ll help us find them. They’re near the mountain.”

“Then you’d better hurry, because that’s where the woman is.”

The priests exchanged glances. “You didn’t think to tell us this before?” one asked.

“Tell you what? We’ve been heading toward the mountain for two days, and I told you how far away she was. Where did you think we’d find her? If you had ever bothered to mention the mountain was important, I’d have looked more carefully before now.”

The priests and the wizard broke into a rapid conversation in Nysan, the Sanvari man seemingly annoyed at being excluded from the conversation. Apparently he was the reason they’d been speaking trade tongue.

Razai drew one of her curved knives and crept forward, slowly enough to not disrupt the invisibility spell. She could kill the wizard now, and possibly end the threat. But could she kill the two priests before they reacted? A priest could potentially stop her in her tracks. Treya had done so accidentally the day before, when she’d prevented Razai from killing the Chosar girl. If the priests stopped her, there’d be no one to carry word back to the others.

Razai backed away. It wasn’t time to kill them yet. She snuck out of the camp, switching from the invisibility spell to her newest disguise when no one was looking her way.

She argued silently with herself on the way out—she hated leaving an enemy alive behind her. She really was going soft.

By the time she left the outer ring of tents behind, she was fuming. These people were trying to kill Leena and she’d allowed them to continue living.

Ahead of her, one of the plain-garbed men was standing watch. Not the same one as before, but a new one. He raised a hand to greet her, unable to see her face in the dark. Without thinking about it, Razai grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head back, and slit his throat. The shouts and laughter from the camp hid the gurgling noises as he died.

She stared down at the man she’d killed. So much for worrying about alerting them. She’d lost control again, allowing the rage—the curse of the demonborn—to control her actions. Now she had to deal with the consequences.

She dragged him far enough away from the camp that no one would be able to see him in the dim light. How long would it be before his body was discovered? Could the Seeker figure out who’d killed him—or at least where she was? Would he bother to try?

As long as Razai got a decent head start, she’d be able to stay ahead of them until she reached her companions, but she didn’t like the idea of being hunted along the way.

Perhaps she could sow some confusion before leaving. She snuck back into the camp and found one of the armed guards who’d taken his weapon belt off so he could sit more comfortably. Invisible, she slowly drew his secondary weapon, a long dagger, from its sheath. She left the camp and returned to the body, then stuck the dagger into the wound and left it there.

Maybe it would throw them off her scent and maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, now they would get an idea of what it felt like to be hunted.