Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (31 page)

“Well?” repeated Morkel. “Why didn’t the sorcerer steal your wagon? From the tracks here, two of them left on foot, heading toward the river. Leaving horses and a wagon worth a good deal of coin and an easier way to travel doesn’t make much sense. She’d want to take them if she was going to head back to Anasoma.”

Caldan agreed with Morkel’s assessment. Bells didn’t need the wagon. “Because she’s not going back to Anasoma.”

Morkel flashed a look at Keevy, who grunted.

“What did they take again?”

“Elpidia’s kit, her medicines, herbs, alchemical ingredients, equipment. Some of it quite valuable. Plus my
crafting
s, the ones I left here.”

“I was going to ask about them. Why would you leave your
crafting
s lying around rather than carry them with you?”

“I left at first light, in a hurry to bring the Protectors the
trinket
sword from Anasoma. I didn’t want to waste any more time. I thought I’d be back soon.”

Morkel stared at him, as if weighing his words. Then he nodded to Keevy. “What did you find?”

“The wagon came in, they camped for the night, one man left toward the road—Caldan here, I would guess. The wagon left after him, and two others headed toward the river, though whether together or separately, I cannot tell.”

This was the first time Caldan had heard him speak, and the man’s voice took him by surprise. It was rough and gravelly, as if it hurt coming out. No wonder he was the quiet type.

“I see the same,” said Morkel. “Let’s move in.”

Chapter Seventeen

Dark and silent, the figures remained motionless as Vasile and Mazoet approached them along the beach. Out to sea, five ships lay at anchor, while in the distance, another four approached. Gray sea birds flapped overhead, and fingernail-sized crabs scuttled back to their burrows as the men passed, boots scrunching in the coarse white sand. A band of dry seaweed marked the high tide line.

Vasile shaded his eyes from the sun and regarded Mazoet, whose expression grew grimmer the closer they approached the group of men. Behind the strangers were five small rowboats, hauled up onto the beach, each with two sailors in attendance. Distinctly odd. Why use five boats to ferry five men to shore?

“Who are they?” he asked the sorcerer. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here. Wherever here is.”

“We are negotiating. Well, not really, since the negotiating was done long ago. But we are… reaffirming our contract with them.”

“And just who are they?”

“Mercenaries. Sell-swords. The best we could find. They were expensive, but what use are ducats if you’re dead?”

Indeed,
thought Vasile. Mazoet had shown a remarkable lack of respect for ducats. Vasile didn’t care much for coins, as those that did usually had other deeper issues and wound up defending themselves in front of the magistrates.

He could discern more details of the five men as they drew closer. A hard-looking lot, leather armored and bristling with blades; one even sported a metal-scaled breastplate.

“Why was it necessary to bring me here?”

“Ah, now you’re asking the right questions. Why do you think?” The sorcerer blew out a breath, cheeks puffing. He’d worked up a sweat on the short walk.

“Because you don’t trust them.”

Mazoet barked a laugh. “Let’s just say we’d hate our hard work to be wasted. Though it’s a good sign they’re here with so many ships. It was difficult to persuade this many companies to band together. And though we have their assurances, indeed signed contracts that they’ll work for us some people don’t put much stock in their word, spoken or written, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes,” replied Vasile. “Though, if they earnt a reputation for reneging on deals, they would never get paid.”

“If the coin was sufficient, they might never have to work for some time, and a change of name and appearance is easy enough. Who would know it was the same mercenary band?”

Vasile nodded in agreement, but there was something else niggling at him. “You must have approached these men months ago, in order to have them organized, and to meet here.” He waved a hand across the waves toward the ships. “Five different groups, all here on the same day at the same time. From wherever they came from—you haven’t said yet.”

“Some are from the Sotharle Union of Cities; some from elsewhere. It’s of no matter. What
does
matter is that they do the job we’re paying them for.”

Vasile made no response. If Gazija and his people had organized the mercenaries months ago, then they had known the invasion was coming that far back. And further, they believed the emperor’s response, with all the power at his disposal, wouldn’t be sufficient to repel the Indryallans. Then why hadn’t they warned the empire? The thought sent shivers down his spine. Any answer he came up with was bleak and heartless.

“Leave the talking to me,” said Mazoet. “I just need you to tell me if they are lying, or skirting around the truth in any way.”

Vasile’s mouth was dry, so he only nodded.

“Good.”

They remained silent as they traveled the remaining distance to the men across the sand, stopping a few paces in front of them. This close, Vasile could discern a readiness about them, and a discipline he hadn’t expected. Their armor and weapons were in good repair, and looked well used and cared for. Mazoet watched the mercenaries closely. Vasile felt evaluated by all five and filed away in some section of their minds.

“Greetings,” said Mazoet, voice booming above the waves. “I see you all made it here.”

The man in the metal-scaled breastplate stepped forward. A huge sword was strapped to his back, and he sported a braided beard.

“Did you think we would break our word? So far, you’ve been honest, and we see no reason to doubt you will be in the future.”

“But delays happen, in all things. Some deadlines are never met on time, Selbourne.”

“Well, as you can see, we are all here.” The bearded man, Selbourne, gestured to his companions. “Along with our men, as promised.”

Vasile realized they were leaders of various mercenary bands.

“The Black Suns,” Selbourne said. The man to the far left, sporting a close-cut goatee, bowed from the waist. “The Broken Blades.” The shortest of the men inclined his head. “Diamond Guard.” A man with a flat nose that looked like it had been broken many times nodded. “The Red Shields.” The fourth man, with two scars running down his cheek, nodded. “And my men, the Forgotten Company.”

Mazoet placed a hand inside his tunic and withdrew a bundle of papers, folded in half. All five mercenary leaders’ eyes were drawn to his movements. Broken Nose licked his lips.

“I see they have appointed you spokesman.”

Selbourne shrugged then nodded.

“You all know,” Mazoet said, “the reason for this meeting: for us to ensure you were all on your way, and to hand you the second payments.” He brandished the papers. “Writs for payment, redeemable at any of our offices, in any city. As agreed.”

A few of the mercenaries glanced at each other.

“Ask him, Selbourne,” said the man with the broken nose.

“Shut your hole, Regnar,” said Selbourne. “I never liked your notion, but you all want me to ask, so I will.” Selbourne met Mazoet’s eye. “There’s a slight problem. The last writs were honored… but what’s to say these will be? These are for a much greater amount. And they are, after all, issued by the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern. With a word, you could render them valueless, and then where would we be?”

They might have been mercenaries, but Vasile realized they were far from stupid. Mazoet’s plans could unravel in front of him.

“Very well,” replied Mazoet. “Though I am aggrieved by your lack of trust, it was thought this situation could occur.”

The sorcerer replaced the papers inside his tunic and removed five leather pouches, throwing one to each of the mercenary captains. There were gasps as four of them spilled the contents into their palms. Each had a handful of cut gemstones of all colors. From their shocked looks, Vasile guessed it was more than enough to cover payment. Regnar, the leader of the Diamond Guard, took a few gems and pocketed them before returning the rest to his pouch.

Selbourne remained silent, tucking his pouch into his belt. With a nod to Mazoet, he stepped back to join his fellows.

Mazoet interrupted their gloating. “I have a question. A formality, nothing more.”

Steely eyes turned the sorcerer’s way, but he remained unflinching under their gazes. “Please answer with a simple yes or no.”

Exchanging puzzled looks, the captains murmured their agreement, then Selbourne spoke. “We’re under your contract. Ask away.”

Mazoet regarded them all for a few moments before speaking. “Do you intend to honor the contract for which you have just received the latest payment?”

Selbourne snorted before turning to face his colleagues. A couple of them shrugged and nodded, while the others voiced consent. He turned back to Mazoet.

“A rather simple question, and one I would have thought had no value. Of course we’ll say yes, even if one of us is going to take the payment and run.”

“Humor me.”

Selbourne turned to the mercenary captains. “Give Mazoet the confirmation he wants, then we can get out of here.”

One by one, they answered Mazoet’s question in the affirmative. None of them looked nervous to Vasile, but he had seen men and women utter untruths as if the truth of their words were as plain as the sun.

Vasile pointed to Regnar, the leader of the Diamond Guard, the man who had taken a few gemstones for himself. “This one,” he said tonelessly, fearing what was about to happen. “He’s lying.”

Regnar’s eyes widened with shock, and he spluttered. “Here now. What’s this?”

Two of the mercenaries pinned his arms to his sides before he could react.

“I’m with you. I told the truth!”

“Kill him,” said Mazoet. “Absorb his men into your own bands. Do you think you can do that?”

Selbourne reached over his shoulder and drew his huge sword. “Yes. His men will go where the ducats are. They don’t like him much anyway.”

At his gesture, Regnar was forced to his knees, arms wrenched behind his back, and a boot tilted his head forward.

“You can’t do this,” he screamed. “I’ll kill you all.”

“Shut your hole,” said Selbourne. “Die with some dignity, at least.”

He raised his blade and brought it down, severing Regnar’s head from his body in one blow. Regnar’s limbs twitched as his blood and life seeped into the sand.

Selbourne wiped his sword clean on the dead man’s clothes. “That’s done. Good riddance.”

Vasile closed his eyes to the sight.

“A necessary unpleasantness,” Mazoet said. “Now, we need you to speed up your preparations. The sooner you arrive at the rally point, the better. The situation in Anasoma has become more complicated, and we fear you’ll be needed sooner rather than later. Come, Vasile, our business here is done.”

•

After another short walk and a stomach-churning, mind-twisting sorcerous transition, Vasile found himself back where he’d been earlier that day. Scores of miles traveled, and a fortune in gems destroyed, all in less than a day. His mind couldn’t quite come to grips with the thought, even though he’d experienced it himself.

Mazoet announced to Vasile his next mission: to find the emperor and use whatever connections and influence he had to gain an audience, and then to explain what Gazija and his people had done and how they could help, all the while using his talent, which the emperor well knew, to persuade him of the truth of their intentions.

Vasile spent the evening and into the night wandering around the camp, lost in thought. Gazija and his people were involved in this invasion far more deeply than he’d realized. They’d obviously known it was going to happen, and yet had done nothing to warn the empire or Anasoma. And now they were offering their ‘aid’ to the emperor?

When he found his bedroll and turned in, he couldn’t sleep. It was with tired relief he watched the sun come up.

Vasile rubbed his eyes. He had developed a headache since hearing what they wanted of him, and it hadn’t left. By the ancestors’ shadows, he could use a strong drink.

Aidan and Vasile stood next to the four horses as Chalayan and cel Rau finished readying them for their journey. Gazija had provided the animals and saddles, along with whatever provisions they required. Hard bread and cheese, dried fruit and nuts were all Aidan had requested. To Vasile, it looked like they wouldn’t be stopping anywhere long, and he couldn’t say he was unhappy with the thought. Gazija and Mazoet and their people were wearing his nerves thin. They had sought him out and dragged him into their mess, but he knew he wasn’t a reluctant participant. Merely doubtful, which was a good thing, wasn’t it?

So, here he was. Handed over to Aidan and left to his own devices and skittering thoughts. And about to mount a horse to persuade the emperor that the leaders of the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern were here to help, and he should ally with them. All night, he’d had visions of the emperor ordering his head cut off, just as the mercenaries had executed the captain of the Diamond Guard. His stomach churned, and his mouth filled with spit at the thought.

“What’s the matter?” asked Aidan. “You look a little queasy. We aren’t going by ship, so you needn’t worry.”

“It’s not our method of travel that worries me. It’s our mission.”

“I have faith in you. No, more than faith, since that would imply I have no evidence of your skills. If anyone can persuade the emperor the truth of what’s happening here, it’s you. I can use our connection with him, plus your familiarity, to gain an audience. The rest is up to you.”

“I’ve only met him a couple of times. I doubt he even remembers.”

“Oh, I think he would. He isn’t the emperor because of his looks.”

“Still…”

“Stop worrying so much; you’ll make yourself sick.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to persuade the emperor.”

Aidan chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Use that trick you pulled on Chalayan. If you’re lucky, he might even give you the five hundred and twelve silvers.”