A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (15 page)

“
Isn’t going to happen. He’s won every contest the last few years. As much as I dislike the dried out old bird, he knows what he’s doing.
”

Caldan had read about the lands surrounding the empire, but it was odd, and strangely exciting, to hear them spoken about in conversation, by people who might have even been there. The Sotharle Union of Cities was far to the northwest, and the Steppes to the southwest, populated by mostly nomadic tribes he’d only read of. Hundreds of years ago the empire tried to claim the lush grasslands of the Steppes for itself, succeeding only marginally before having its nose bloodied by the fierce tribes living there. He thought back to what Captain Charlotte had said about treasure hunters finding their fortune in the wilds. Not something he could see himself doing.

Caldan’s thoughts turned back to Dominion as the noise in the inn grew. Usually, any discussion involving the game would have him look to join in and while away a few hours with like-minded people. But not tonight. He was too tired from the last few days and disheartened at the start of his new life in Anasoma. Not skilled enough to qualify for any guild and too old to join one. Still, he did have an inkling as to what line of inquiry he could follow up next. He could always do as Charlotte had suggested and enter a few of the competitions in the Autumn Festival. But doing well enough to earn a purse of ducats was chancy indeed, and relying on luck to survive didn’t appeal to him. He could try his hand at winning some coins playing Dominion against people frequenting the inns around the area, but somehow it didn’t feel right. Taking ducats from people who hadn’t had his advantages of practicing against masters, tuition, and books to study from. No, it was unfair. He would take that path as a last resort.

He swallowed the rest of his pear cider in a few quick gulps then stood, intending to head back to his room and work on some patterns and exercises with
crafting.
That was his next idea, to approach the Sorcerers’ Guild and see if they could find a use for his talents in that area. From his lessons at the monastery he knew he had talent and was one of the few able to access his well, but as he was finding out, what he had been taught covered the bare bones of subjects, and he didn’t think this would be any different.

Halfway across the room, his eyes wandered to the Dominion game continuing in the corner between the man, who was sitting back with a satisfied smile on his face, and the woman, who grimaced at the board. She was overmatched and in some difficulty. Her first tier looked solid, but her pieces on the second and third tiers were in disarray. If she kept going like this, the game would be over soon. Her eyes kept flicking to the silver coins beside the board as she thought about her next move and chewed on a fingernail. By the look of her clothes, she wasn’t as well off as the man opposite her and had the look of someone who had found the stakes of the game distressing once it had turned against her.

On an impulse, Caldan quickly skirted through the crowd and up to his room, where he jotted a few sentences on a piece of parchment. Exiting his room, he descended the stairs and beckoned to the waitress, then tasked her with delivering the folded parchment to the lady playing Dominion. The waitress winked at him and giggled, then sauntered off towards the players.

Let her think what she wants,
thought Caldan, shaking his head on the way back to his room, not lingering to see if the note was delivered to the lady or what her reaction was.

He had drifted off to sleep when a knock on his door woke him to a semi-conscious state. Half-thinking he was dreaming, he lay there listening, and a few moments later the knock came again. Stumbling to the door, he made sure his improvised
crafting
lock was still active, brushing his hand across both pieces of paper. A light vibration and warmth told him the sorcery was still working, but he could feel it wasn’t as strong as two days ago. The paper couldn’t hold the forces much longer.

“
Hello?
”
he said.
“
Who is it?
”

There was a hesitation from the person on the other side.
“
It’s the woman who was playing Dominion, the one you sent a note to. I need to talk to you.
”

Caldan passed his hand over the
crafting
, this time whispering a few words. As he spoke, the vibration and warmth died away, leaving an odor that reminded him of lemons. He should have known the lady might try to find out where the note had come from.

He turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open halfway.
“
Good evening,
”
he said, voice fuzzy and stifling a yawn.
“
Sorry, I was asleep. No need to thank me for the note. I thought you might need some help. You looked like the game meant a lot more to you than it did to your opponent.
”

She stood in the hallway, an annoyed expression on her face.
“
I wasn’t going to thank you. Here’s your note back.
”
She held out the folded piece of parchment.

“
Ah… why not? I don’t normally offer advice to strangers, but…it looked like you needed it.
”

“
Looks can be deceiving. Here, take it back.
”
She pressed the note into his hand.
“
I wanted to tell you your solution to salvage the game was elegant. Will you be playing at the Autumn Festival?
”

Caldan’s thoughts were trying to catch up to the conversation.
“
Um… no. I’m not sure yet.
”
He frowned.
“
Why didn’t you need my help?
”

“
That’s good. The less competition the better. I lost that game, but luckily managed to win the next two against him, after he upped the stakes.
”
She smiled a wry, lopsided smile.
“
He was terribly upset at losing so many silver ducats, but you should only bet what you can afford to lose, I always say.
”

He finally woke up to her game.
“
I see… You make your living playing Dominion?
”

“
Of a sort,
”
she replied.
“
Listen, it’s late and I need to sleep. I came to offer some advice. Passing hints or strategies might be acceptable for friendly games, but when ducats are involved it’s best you keep to yourself. If he had thought I was cheating it would have gone badly for me. At the very least I wouldn’t have been able to keep the coins. Keep your thoughts to yourself, please.
”

Caldan hadn’t realized he could have caused trouble for her, but thinking about it now, of course he could have. It was stupid of him to have interfered in a game where ducats were at stake.

“
Um… I think the serving girl thought I was propositioning you.
”
He blushed.
“
I am sure she didn’t think there was anything else to the note.
”

The lady sighed.
“
That’s good, I suppose. As long as my reputation stays clean I will still be welcome to play. I can see you are new to Anasoma. Think before you act, that’s all.
”
She turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, descending the stairs to the common room.

Caldan closed the door, reactivated his
crafted
lock and lay back on his cot, hands behind his head. Stupid, he thought. Of course someone might have thought she was cheating if they had seen the note. Maybe the stress of the last few days was affecting him.

Chapter Twelve

With a loud clunk the bolt slid home in the thick door, and Amerdan paused to catch his breath. The streets outside were filled with smoke, and his eyes, nose and throat felt choked with the smell of burning.

Today was the last day of the Ghost Festival. For days households had lit fires to incinerate symbolic offerings to the ghosts, to make sure they didn’t come into their homes and bring bad luck. Many built their fires on their front steps or at the front of their dwellings, thinking the ghosts were more likely to come in that way. Amerdan had passed many people placing wrapped offerings into the flames. The acrid smoke from so many fires irritated him; scents of burnt food, parchment, cloth and fragrant woods assaulted his nostrils, and he had hurried to get back to his shop and leave it behind.

He took a few deep breaths to get rid of any lingering scent, wiped the back of his hand across his nose and blinked a few times.

His shop stood empty. Still and silent. He moved behind the polished counter, as always keeping an eye out for anything untoward. He reached up and gently grasped the gray rag doll, cradled it in one arm and walked out the back door into the courtyard.

A brazier had been set up next to the well, set with kindling and coke ready to be ignited. Amerdan liked to use coke for this day; it burnt hot and bright and never left anything behind.

He carefully placed the rag doll on the lip of the well. It sat there looking at him.

“
There you go,
”
he murmured.

The night was dark, cold. Sounds from the nearby street and houses floated to his ears, people passing by on the way to or coming from a party for the festival; the clinking of plates from next door, where dinner was being served; the drunken laugh of someone who had made too merry this night, and snorts from his five pigs. His courtyard was dark, save for glimmers from the lanterns of passing people reflected over the walls. He stood still, letting the coldness of the night wash over him and absorbing some of the calm it lent.

Enough, he decided. He produced a packet and extracted a thin stick with a white tip. With a flick of his wrist he scraped the stick on the well and the phosphorus ignited. Soon, a fire crackled in the brazier.

Amerdan waited patiently until he judged it hot enough, then spoke into the night.

“
Revered ancestors, be my protection against the wickedness and snares of the ghosts, those who wander the eternal twilight between our world and yours. Help them find peace, and guide them away from here, where their spirits may linger to do harm.
”

He bent to a wicker basket by his feet and withdrew a handful of tiny stick figures. All made by him over the last few days, they were remarkably detailed. Each had different clothes made from winding strips of cloth around their legs, torsos and arms. Colored beads for eyes were glued to small wooden heads, and lifelike hair had been attached as well. There were seventeen in all.

One by one, Amerdan took each figure, looked into its eyes and repeated a short phrase, making sure to name each one.

The first, a figure of a man with green bead eyes, went into the brazier. Flames licked greedily at the offering.

“
Christophe Morrow, rest in peace. Do not search for me, do not come for me. My life and soul are barred to you, now and forever.
”
Amerdan’s voice quivered. Christophe deserved worse than burning. He spat onto the figure as the flames consumed it.

He waited until it had burned completely before continuing. The second figure went into the brazier, a woman with a short brown skirt.

“
Lydia Fortescue, rest in peace. Do not search for me, do not come for

me. My life and soul are barred to you, now and forever.
”

Again, he waited until the figure had been consumed by the fire before continuing, and one by one the pile of wooden figures slowly diminished. He waited a few minutes for each one to be fully burnt and the smoke to dissipate. By the time he reached for the seventeenth and final figure an hour had passed.

He held the last figure tightly for a moment, then stroked the few strands of hair on its head. Two strips of red cloth had been tied as a belt and a ribbon in its hair. He threw it onto the glowing coals and gritted his teeth as it began to burn.
Such a sweet young girl.

“
Daphne, rest in peace. Do not search for me, do not come for me. My life and soul are barred to you, now and forever.
”

He remained still, one hand clutching the pendant around his neck as he watched the coals and the wavy heat emanating from them. A loud shout outside from a boisterous reveler broke his reverie, and he shook himself. Standing there, the cold night air had chilled him, despite the hot brazier.

Tenderly, he picked up the rag doll.

“
Come on,
”
he said to it.
“
I need a strong drink.
”

They went inside, closing the door behind them.