Aethersmith (Book 2) (51 page)

“I brought my theory to Rashan, and he agreed. He had
assumed it was you all along, but did not care enough to mention it. I got the
impression he was not bereft over the duke’s death, and I decided not to press
him on it.”

“If I did, you think that means I’m responsible for those
murders last night?”

“You do not just hire any jack-blade out of the alleys, and
set him off on a merry romp among the Circle. Whoever killed three in one night
knew what they were doing around magic.”

“Thanks ... I think. But I had nothing to do with them. And
if I had, what had you planned to do about it?”

Aloisha’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “You are carrying
those daggers my brother gave you as a wedding gift,” Aloisha said, making an
accusation of it. “What would you have done if I had said I was going to tell
Rashan it was you, attack me? You are Sixth Circle, and content to remain so. I
am Inner Circle; I could crush you like a gnat if you tried it.”

“Well, it is a very good thing that I had nothing to do with
those murders, then, isn’t it?” Juliana said. Faster than Aloisha could react,
a pair of daggers appeared in Juliana’s hands, blades poised beneath the
startled sorceress’s ears. Each of Aloisha’s dangling earrings was delicately
draped over a bared dragon-bone blade. “I would hate to have gotten hurt.”
Slowly, Juliana lowered the blades, and returned them to the recesses beneath
her tunic. Aloisha had managed no more than a startled intake of breath.

Swallowing, and letting out a shuddering breath to calm
herself, Aloisha broached the subject one further time: “There are forces at
work to tear down Warlock Rashan, and return control of the Empire to the
Circle. Which side are you on?” Aloisha asked, more politeness evident in her
tone than before she had been frightened.

“I don’t think I am quite the kind either side is interested
in recruiting, if indeed there are sides at all. I’ve heard Rashan rant about
conspiracies before, but I assumed he was paranoid. It’s one of the perks of
being important, as far as I can tell. I assume you have sided with Rashan,
since he’s the only reason you aren’t still Third Circle.”

“Yes, the whole family is with Rashan, but I am less certain
of the Archons. The death of High Sorcerer Gravis sits ill with them.”

“Yeah, I was never fond of my grandfather, but he was my
blood. Still, even if I don’t side
with
him, I’m certainly not fool
enough to side
against
Rashan. Besides, I’d hate to have to get my
oathsister’s blood all over my nice new daggers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I
have places to be.” Juliana shouldered her way past Aloisha, and found the
telekinesis spell that had held the door was no longer doing so.

She tried to gather her thoughts while she wove through the
tangle of servants, headed for the palace gates. She had heard of the murders,
of course—they were the talk of the city that morning, with rumors spreading
like the morning sunlight—but had not thought it to be a fight within the
Circle for control of the Empire.

* * * * * * * *

Kyrus arrived at Rashan’s office to find Celia waiting there
in his stead. She sat demurely, legs crossed, hands in her lap. She started to
get up when Kyrus entered, but a look of disappointment crossed her features as
she sat right back down again.

“I had thought Rashan was back,” she said, by way of
apology. She stifled a yawn.

“Glad to know where I rate,” Kyrus commented with an amused
grin. “I thought you were going to be working for Caladris now.”

“I do, and he often has me running errands between the two
of them. But I have personal business with the warlock.” She raised her
eyebrows, and turned her head a bit, as if challenging Kyrus to ask about it.

“Well, he had left word that he wanted to see me, so I
assumed he would be here. Do you know where he is?”

“He is the busiest man in the Empire; he could be anywhere.
He is even busier than you, Brannis, though I would wager you do not think so
often. You can wait here with me, if you like,” Celia offered.

“I suppose I will have to,” Kyrus replied, blushing as he
realized how that must have sounded. “I meant that I have a lot of things to do
as well, as you mentioned. But I cannot just ignore Rashan’s request.”

Kyrus walked over behind the desk and sat down.

“You should not sit there,” Celia said. “I would not want to
see Rashan get angry.”

“It is the only other chair here. It is not as if he would
kill me for taking his seat anyway. He is not quite that temperamental.” Kyrus
was only partially certain on that last point.

Celia said nothing after that, just sat there looking
nervous. She did not look directly at Kyrus, but as he sat at Rashan’s desks,
surrounded by confidential reports on troop movements and Kadrin political
affairs, his eyes were drawn to her.
The hair does not quite match
, he
thought, comparing her to his mental image of Abbiley.
The build is close …
very close, but Celia is a touch thinner, and her breasts are higher. The nose
seems about right. The eyes are identical. Celia’s teeth are perfectly straight
and white, while Abbiley’s are more natural looking. She sounds like Abbiley,
Kyrus
added mentally, though he knew his ear for such things was poor. It seemed a
horrible question, but he had to ask it of himself anyway:
If I was Abbiley,
and had the magic to do so, what would I change about myself?
That was the
crux of it.

“You keep looking over this way,” Celia mentioned.

Kyrus turned his gaze away, and blushed anew. “There are not
many places to look in here. It is a small office. I cannot help where my eyes
are drawn,” Kyrus said. He tried to focus his attention on a guest list for the
reception after the ceremony.

“Had a change of heart perhaps?” Celia asked, a playful note
sneaking into her voice, accompanied by a shy smile.

Kyrus’s brow burrowed in genuine contemplation.
Have I?

A change of heart would imply that he had not been attracted
to her ever since noticing the resemblance she bore to Abbiley when he first
saw her through Brannis’s eyes. Or it would imply that he had been initially
attracted to her, but was no longer.

“No.” Kyrus’s voice went hoarse on him. He cleared his
throat, and tried again. “No, I have not.” He smiled in her direction. She
smiled back, showing those perfect teeth that reminded him that even if she was
Abbiley in Tellurak, she was different here.

“There is nothing in our way, you know,” Celia said,
obviously having guessed at how Kyrus had meant his answer. She was smart, one
of the things he admired in her.

“There are a great many things in the way. Again as you
pointed out, I am busier than anyone except perhaps the warlock.”

“No one is making you sketch up new runes to build airships
with. You have no duties to the Circle. Just manage the army—which should be
enough work for any man—and leave the rest to others. And … well … do not make
yourself any more of a target than you already may be.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kyrus asked.

“Brannis, think about it. There has already been one attempt
on your life,” Celia explained. “Now there is someone killing sorcerers right
here in Kadris.”

“What has Caladris heard?” Kyrus asked. She was his
assistant now, so the idea that she might have special knowledge of the attacks
was not unreasonable.

“Dolvaen is the one investigating it. He has said nothing to
Caladris that I am aware of.”

Kyrus was about to ask whether she knew of factions within
the Circle, and which the victims might have belonged to, but Rashan chose that
moment to arrive back at his office.

“Ahh, Brannis, good of you to wait for me. I hope you took care
of a few of those annoying reports for me while I was delayed,” Rashan jested,
his mood better than Kyrus was accustomed to seeing it. “Celia my dear, your
presence is a bit more of a surprise. What brings you to my offices on a
frenetic day such as this?”

“It is the dreams again,” she replied, casting a quick,
sidelong glance at Kyrus as if deciding how much she ought to say in front of
him. “I slept all night but woke exhausted. My mind was occupied all night as
if stuck watching a play that ran from dawn to sunset.”

“What is it that you would have me do for you?” Rashan
asked. “End the dreams? Tell you what they mean? Reassure you that you are not
losing your mind?”

“Well, maybe all three but in reverse order,” Celia
answered.

“Without knowing more of them, I would venture that there is
little risk to your sanity. Folk have dreamed all manner of things, and if they
say nothing of it upon awakening, it may as well never have happened. From
kings to killers, warriors to lovers, all within the span of a night, all
within the confines of the same head. You may do what you like within it. As to
the meaning, you ought to search through them yourself for that. Dreams are an
insight into your own life. If, as you mentioned to me once before, you are the
same person in your dreams night after night, you ought to begin by learning
more about this dream-self. As to ending them … there is only one way I know of
to end dreams permanently: stop sleeping.”

“Well, that is not much use to me, now is it?” Celia asked
in a plaintive tone.

“I have many demands upon my time, else I would be willing
to discuss your dreams with you at length. However, those demands are lessened
greatly in the deep hours of the night when sensible folk are sleeping. You can
come back then, and seek both refuge from dreaming, and maybe a more detailed
insight, if you can put more details to your description. Now if you would
allow, Brannis and I have matters to discuss that I would prefer my
great-nephew to hear about when I am ready to tell him myself.”

“Sorry to have bothered you, Warlock.” Celia stood, gave a
small curtsey to the warlock, and took her leave. She cast a hesitant glance
over her shoulder at Kyrus just before closing the door behind her.

Ignoring what formal protocol would have dictated, Rashan
slumped down into the chair Celia had vacated, leaving Kyrus seated at his
desk.

“Interesting girl, is she not?” Rashan asked, lacing his
fingers behind his head as he lounged, stretched out diagonally on the chair.
“Did you ever ask her about that name you had? Abbiley?”

“Yes. She accused you of having revealed it to me. I am
still not entirely certain she is Abbiley, but my suspicions are growing.”

“Well, keep that attitude of suspicion. Easy trust is a bad
habit to fall into. It is easy for me to be flippant about it, given my current
condition, and lack of a direct link to Tellurak these days. You, on the other
hand, do well to doubt. The girl you described to me from Tellurak sounded like
a sweet, innocent thing, but Celia is a clever girl. If the two are one in the
same, and she fully realizes it, their personalities will drift together over
time. That sweet, young, innocent girl might find a way to get hold of you by
the manhood in one world and own you in both. Positioned well, blackmail
between worlds can be brutally effective.”

“It is the look that makes me doubt. She is so close, but
there are a number of small things that are off. I cannot tell how much could
be explained by magic,” Kyrus said, hands spread wide in a helpless gesture.

“Most sorceresses get around to hammering out any blemish
they find in their appearance, though some are more vain about it than others.
A few carry around some flaws as marks of pride that their looks are natural.
The sensible ones come to realize that menfolk are not as picky as they imagine
them to be. Celia I would place among the first group.”

“Can you tell by looking what has changed?” Kyrus asked.

“Not if she is any good at it, no,” Rashan responded. “I
have more important matters to attend to today. Your little personal mystery
can occupy some other chunk of time, separate from my day.”

“So which shall it be then, coronation or murderous
intrigue?” Kyrus asked.

“No one ever said we could not combine the two,” Rashan
joked. “But actually I wished to speak to you of what will be taking place
after
the coronation.”

“The reception?” Kyrus ventured a guess.

“No, me leaving to go to war.”

“Oh.”

“And you taking my place overseeing affairs in Kadris.”

Silence.

And silence in reply. Rashan only smiled.

“You are really going to leave me to run everything in your
absence?” Kyrus asked.

“I could not leave Brannis in charge, even though he had the
brains for it. You, though, ‘Brannis,’ are a bit of a different tale. Brannis
would have had to worry about plots directed against him, magical manipulation,
or someone just straightforwardly turning him to ash. You are raw, largely
untrained, but potentially dangerous enough to give anyone pause. You can bully
them into obeying you, if transferred authority is not enough to win their
cooperation.”

“But what about the new emperor? What if he wants you to
remain? You have been protecting him all this time.”

“I have hammered it into his head since I got him selected
that once he is emperor, he should order me into the field to clean up the mess
this war is becoming. We can protect him from Megrenn well enough. Once he is
emperor, I will cease worrying so much about threats from within. Killing a
crowned emperor is a whole different matter from disposing of an appointed heir
who did not enjoy wide support.”

“Speaking of threats from within, what about those murders
last night?” Kyrus asked.

“A tantrum perhaps, by those who disliked my choice of
emperor. None of the three who were killed were particularly important, but I
counted them among my supporters. Had they managed to kill Caladris or Aloisha,
maybe I would have taken them seriously, but I do not see a threat in this.
Mistake me not, though, I will delve into the matter through other parties, and
find out the culprit. Just because I do not feel a threat does not mean it
ought to go unpunished.”