Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (39 page)

Savine shook his head. “No. He always drinks in the evening; he’s a taste for it. Though he never overdoes it; he’s too careful for that. As someone who fought for the right to lead his people, he’s well aware of others waiting to take his place.”

“Then, why doesn’t he just kill them?” asked Aslaug.

“Stupidity?” replied Savine. “Maybe he wants to keep an eye on them. Or… he’s overconfident. With justification, perhaps, but… no… he’s too smart to be overconfident; there has to be another reason.”

“Perhaps he can’t be killed?” said Vibesse. “That’s what the Indryallans say.”

Savine laughed. “Anyone can be killed; even we can. There’s always a weakness; we just have to find it.”

Aslaug and Vibesse looked fearful. Like him, they’d thought they were about to die once. Not a pleasant experience. If they were starting to listen to the Indryallans and their drivel, then others might be, too. With this last failure, he needed to resort to less subtle methods.

“We’ll need access to a smith-
crafting
area, and materials to work with. See to it.”

These people’s sorcery had limits. Some self-imposed, and some a result of a lack of progress because of those same impositions. Only idiots gave up power, and when they did, someone came along and made them regret it.

Aslaug and Vibesse bowed in his direction then hastened out of the room.

Savine looked at the remains of the crystal decanter on the floor. Delicate and pretty, it had shattered when met with a greater force. As Kelhak would, once Savine finished his
crafting
.

Then the Indryallans would need to elect a new leader, and would conduct their ridiculous testing rituals to determine who was best fit to lead them.

Someone skilled in fighting and sorcery.

Someone like him.

•

Savine stood before Kelhak, who was lounging, one leg hanging over the arm of his chair. Four of Kelhak’s personal guard were stationed around the room, large, violent men sworn to vengeance if anything befell their leader, then to kill themselves afterward.

Inwardly, Savine sneered at their idiocy. If your leader died, then you positioned yourself as best you could to be the one to replace him, or be indispensable to the man that did.

Kelhak held a glass of wine, almost empty. The same glass that had been coated in one half of the poison; the only glass in the room. The God-Emperor only used clay or wooden cups to offer guests wine, and Savine thought it was a petty show of power, as if saying, “See, I drink from glass while I offer you clay.” But Kelhak rarely did things for such obvious reasons, and his methods were usually beyond Savine’s understanding. One of the reasons he had to die.

The God-Emperor knew where Gazija’s blind followers were hiding in the city and yet had done nothing, despite Savine’s repeated pleas for them to be wiped out. The knowledge that Rebecci and the others had secreted themselves and were most likely plotting to kill him gnawed at his gut. But he dared not go against Kelhak’s wishes. Not yet.

Kelhak waved at him to take a seat, and leaned forward.

“Your friend escaped.”

Savine frowned. “Friend?”

“Lady Felicienne. Threw herself out a window into the river, and in the middle of an interesting Dominion game, too. Rude of her.”

Savine had all but forgotten the woman. Kelhak had sent him to track her after the incident at the docks with the trebuchet. When he’d seen the machine’s load arcing through the sky straight toward Kelhak on his ship, he’d thought the man was doomed. Until he weathered the destruction as if it were nothing.

Another reason he had to die.

“You wanted her… my lord,” he replied. “And I delivered her to you.”

“And what happened to her comrades? She couldn’t have wound and loaded the shot by herself. I heard a rumor someone died in the cell with her. A fat man.” Kelhak made a hacking motion with his free hand. “Had his feet removed. Chop, chop.”

Very quickly, Savine had learned Kelhak sometimes hid his intelligence behind simplistic speech. “He was nobody.”

“A fat nobody… like the one who defeated your two pets? What are their names? Two against one, and they ran like rats.”

Savine swallowed.
How could he know?
It was impossible. “I… didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Ah. Didn’t think. You should have stopped there.”

For one fleeting moment, Savine thought about accessing his well before ruthlessly quashing the idea. He doubted he could defeat Kelhak, and he wouldn’t give him an excuse to attack him. Before he could muster words to respond, Kelhak spoke again.

“There isn’t much I don’t know. And this incident with your pets almost escaped my notice. But never mind; it’s of no interest to me.”

If he didn’t care, then why bring it up?
“My people have split, as you know. And…” Savine’s voice trailed off as he watched Kelhak swallow a mouthful of wine. He calculated the quantity of poison in that amount of wine alone should be enough to kill ten men. He blinked and continued. “There are still occasional fights among the two factions, small skirmishes, tests of strength, probing for weaknesses.”

“If I remember rightly, you told me the split was around leadership. This… Gazija held undue influence over people, and some of you rebelled, under your guidance.”

“Yes,” lied Savine. A half-truth. He had no intention of telling Kelhak the reality of their situation. That they subsisted on others, relied upon them for their own existence. On one thing, Gazija was right: the backlash if the truth was known could very well lead to their destruction. “The young ones like Aslaug and Vibesse are occasionally led astray by their… youthfulness, and their exuberance leads them to rash action.”

“Ah, to be young again,” mused Kelhak. “Everything looked simpler then; it’s when we mature that we really see. Do you see?”

Savine hesitated. Was Kelhak telling him he knew he was lying? Then why not come out and say it? “I believe I… see.”

“Good.” Kelhak waved his wine glass at the guards around the room. “These men, they see, but only a small portion of reality: what they only need to see; the rest is unimportant to them.”

Though he wasn’t making much sense, Savine nodded in agreement. Kelhak’s behavior was often odd, sometimes unfathomable, but so far, he hadn’t made an error of judgement, as far as Savine knew.

“Those two young ones of yours, they’re quite intelligent for their age, aren’t they?”

Kelhak’s question caught him by surprise, and he floundered for a moment. “Their parents were both gifted, and they must take after them,” he managed.

“What happened to their parents?”

“They died some time ago,” replied Savine, warming to his cover story. “A wasting disease. We’ve looked after them since.”

Kelhak grunted. “They far surpass other children their age. I should know; I’ve a few of my own. It’s almost like they’re adults.”

Savine froze, then self-consciously made his expression thoughtful and shifted in his chair, thoughts churning furiously. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Indeed, they act far older than their years, but, what with their parents dying, they’ve been through trials that… developed them. They lost their youth a long time ago.”

“So did we all.” Kelhak turned and refilled his glass.

Savine pulled his gaze from it, lest he look suspicious.

“Now, this Felicienne woman,” continued Kelhak. “I want you to find her again, after she’s run around the city for a few days. The men with her were killed, so she’ll need to gather other allies to help her. She knows better than we who she could turn to, and she will lead us to them.”

Savine nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“Maybe we can finish our game then; she had me in quite a bind.”

“I’m sure you would have won in the end.”

Kelhak looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. Anyway, back to your… people, as you call them. They need to limit the sorcery they use for a week, unless their life is in danger, then they can protect themselves.”

“Surely, you jest?”

“Surely, I don’t. It’s not a request.”

“But… why?” A ban on sorcery would severely hinder Savine’s plans. There was much they still had to do, and preparing to remove Gazija from power couldn’t wait much longer. If only he could push Kelhak in the old man’s direction, make him think he was a threat. If the Indryallans sent some of their sorcerers and soldiers after Gazija, Savine’s plans would become easier. Even when Kelhak died, it wouldn’t be a problem, as long as the wheels had been set in motion.

“Because I commanded it,” snapped Kelhak.

“Of course. I mean, is there a reason for this? It seems drastic.”

Almost instantly, Kelhak’s expression changed from one of irritation to thoughtfulness. The man could be strange at times.

“There are two reasons. My daughter Bells is on a task, one I set her before she led the invasion of this squalid city.”

Savine smoothed a frown, considering Kelhak’s incongruous choice of words. From what he understood, Anasoma was one of the most progressive cities in the empire, and far more illustrious than anywhere in Indryalla. Why would Kelhak describe it as squalid? It paled in comparison with the cities of Savine’s homeland, but Kelhak couldn’t possibly know about them, could he? It was impossible.

Kelhak hadn’t noticed his preoccupation and continued. “She is to send me two signals, of a unique sorcerous nature. And as she’s so far away, any local sorcerous emanations could disrupt my ability to detect them.”

“You can detect sorcery from such a distance? You must have a
trinket
.”

Kelhak laughed at his assumption. “Do I look like I need crutches? No, this is but one of my talents, among many others. And the other reason is closer to home. But first, let me tell you something.”

“Yes?” replied Savine warily, still stunned by Kelhak’s admission. To be able to detect sorcery without a
crafting
or
trinket
from such a distance was… not unheard of but… there was only one creature he knew could do such a thing: Liijanx, the ancient sorcerer whose knowledge and power was able to defeat death itself. And whose perverted madness had destroyed their world, and almost them along with it. But its horror was far in their past, and best forgotten. Kelhak’s ability was another oddity of this world, he decided.

“I know you want Gazija dead, not just captured and imprisoned. And I know your pets, Aslaug and Vibesse, are older than they look. Now you now know it’s impossible to keep secrets from me.”

Savine wrung his hands and lowered his eyes. “My lord, forgive me. I—”

“Enough,” interrupted Kelhak. “So long as you know. Now, look at me.”

With dread, Savine raised his head.

The God-Emperor Kelhak looked him in the eye. “The other reason is… someone’s trying to kill me.”

Savine forced himself to hold Kelhak’s gaze and not look away.

Not so impossible,
he thought.

Chapter Twenty-Four

With Joachim recuperating, Caldan decided to leave him be and found a few journeymen to question. The journeymen were always short of coin and they’d likely have spare
craftings
he could purchase. True enough, the journeymen did, and they handed over their
crafting
s for a few ducats. Caldan took only those he thought were of good quality, and deflected the journeymen’s questions on what he needed them for with noncommittal answers and brief smiles. Just as with the Protectors in Anasoma, there was an illicit trade in
crafting
s. Especially among the journeymen who needed hard coin to buy materials for work which might not pass the masters’ quality inspection, which would then have to be destroyed or melted down for reuse.

His time on the run had left him itching to continue the work he had become in Anasoma, especially after his automaton and wristband had been destroyed. They had both saved his life and he felt their loss deeply, the results of his hard work and experimentation crushed in an instant.

This is it, thought Caldan, a small cloth sack in his hand. A few minutes’ walk from the Protectors’ to a traders’ square, the business he was looking for had a nondescript door, but above that was a sign displaying two gears.

When he pushed the door open, a metal chime tinkled, and he entered a room not unlike the clockmaker’s shop in Anasoma. He was disappointed at the devices on display. They were obviously of lesser quality, and a thin layer of dust covered many of the pieces, which didn’t shine as they had in the other shop. On one, he even noted a spot of rust. There were no crafted sorcerous globes, only a couple of lamps in addition to windows letting in light.

He closed the door behind him and a young woman appeared as if out of nowhere. Caldan realized she must have been bending over behind the counter where he couldn’t see her. She had on a pair of spectacles similar to the clockmaker’s in Anasoma, and she looked over the top of them to see him properly. He realized the glasses were not to correct her eyesight but were magnifying lenses, an aid for the tiny mechanisms she worked with.

“Hello, young sir,” she said, eyes flicking to his sword and the
trinket
on his finger. “I don’t see many Protectors in here; I usually deal with the Sorcerers’ Guild. Or was it something else you’re after? Perhaps a gift?” Her eyes lit up.

Business wasn’t doing so well, surmised Caldan. The woman’s obvious interest in selling him something, and the state of the shop, were clear indications. She was a smart one, having deduced he was a Protector from his appearance, so perhaps they’d be able to come to an agreement beneficial to both of them.

Caldan cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m not after a gift. Perhaps another time…”

The woman’s gaze fell to the floor, and Caldan took pity on her, deciding to get to the point of his visit. “I have some
crafting
s you may be interested in,” he said, and shook his cloth sack, which jingled.

“Oh, I can’t purchase any except from the guild.”

“The Protectors are part of the Sorcerers’ Guild, and I’m not after ducats in exchange.”

The clockmaker regarded him with interest.