Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (49 page)

Joachim patted Caldan on the back. “Excellent. We’ll attend, won’t we, Caldan? To make sure everything’s done properly and with… respect.”

Numbly, Caldan nodded, and as Joachim and the Quiver exchanged farewells, he turned his back on Elpidia and wandered down the street. Barely perceiving anything around him, he shuffled along, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other.

For the first time, he noticed blood was smeared on his hands and shirt. Elpidia’s. He looked blankly at his red hands then wiped them together in a vain attempt to clean them.

The streets and people went by in a daze, and it wasn’t until he was in front of the Protectors’ he realized Joachim had been walking beside him the whole way. He clenched his fists, feeling his grief ebb slightly, to be replaced by anger.

“Bells wouldn’t have used a knife,” he said. “She wouldn’t need to. This was someone else’s work.”

“I agree. And that someone was good with a knife. Able to… do the deed in daylight without being noticed. I doubt it would have gone unnoticed if she’d been dragged down the side street. Which means she ran into someone she knew or recognized.”

Caldan’s chest tightened. If it wasn’t Bells, there was only one other person he knew Elpidia would recognize that could be in the city: Amerdan. He remembered the knives the shopkeeper carried, and what he’d done to Mahsonn. But he was Touched, wasn’t he? Why would he kill Elpidia? It didn’t make sense. Unless… Could he have suspected Joachim was after him? Caldan himself had told Joachim he thought Amerdan was Touched. Now, with what Elpidia had discovered and Caldan’s theory, he’d unwittingly put the shopkeeper in Joachim’s sights. Was Amerdan on the run from the warlocks and the emperor? Was that why he’d disappeared when they reached Riversedge, in case someone recognized him? It made sense. But… it didn’t seem quite right. Another strong possibility was Amerdan being in league with Bells, given he disappeared when she escaped. And now Elpidia’s wounds…

Joachim guided him through the gates into the Protectors’ courtyard.

“Elpidia,” he said. “She was a physiker, was she not?”

“Yes. More an alchemist. Physiking she did to help those that needed it, and for the income.”

Joachim looked thoughtful. “And she’d known Amerdan for some time?”

“No, not as far as I’m aware. The first time they met was after Anasoma was invaded.”

“But you said Amerdan was like you. He exhibited similar abilities.”

Caldan’s mouth went dry. Did Joachim suspect Elpidia knew? If he did, then he’d also suspect she may have told Miranda. Which meant Miranda was now at risk, despite her mental state.

“Just the one time.”

Joachim grunted. “He’s thrown his lot in with Bells. He’s a danger.” He gazed at Caldan, taking in his bloody hands and shirt. “Go inside and wash up, and put on some clean clothes. Have something to eat and a drink or two. Then get some rest.”

I should have seen it sooner. Joachim’s right.
“Miranda. I’ll need to take care of her now Elpidia’s gone.”

“I’ll have the Protectors appoint someone to help.”

“Thank you. I’ll stay with her anyway. She needs someone around her that she knows.”

With a nod, Joachim assented and clasped his shoulder. “We’ll find this Amerdan and determine if he did it.”

Caldan suspected finding Amerdan had become one of Joachim’s priorities ever since he’d mentioned his abilities. If there was someone Touched out there the warlocks didn’t know about, they’d want to bring them under their control. And if they couldn’t… it wouldn’t go well for the Touched they were after. He had a vision of himself strapped to a table with needles sticking out of his arms, filling vials with his blood, a grinning Joachim watching on.

Surely not?

But why wouldn’t they? And Joachim would decide his fate, if he let him.

•

Caldan dragged himself out of bed before sunrise, unable to sleep at all. Bleary-eyed, he left Miranda’s needs to the girls that had been assigned to her, and washed and dressed.

Joachim joined him as he exited the Protectors’ headquarters, apparently attuned to the fact Caldan would want to head to the cemetery early in the morning, or because he’d been told by whoever he had keeping an eye on Caldan. Either way, it didn’t matter; Caldan knew Joachim was watching him for any slip up or sign he wouldn’t be compliant, and so he was at pains to act normal, and ignorant.

He passed through the streets of Riversedge in a daze. Before he knew it, they’d arrived. Just outside the cemetery, a woman sold flowers, and Caldan purchased a bunch, holding them gently, as if he feared the slightest pressure would crush their petals.

The cemetery was a bleak affair, as expected. Hard-packed earth paths wove between graves, and a cold wind stirred up dust, blowing around weeds and tombstones. Caldan noticed shards of bone mixed into the dirt at his feet and grimaced. With the main cities, space was at a premium, and he suspected parts of the cemetery were reused after many years.

As he waited, Joachim disappeared to have words with the cemetery workers, and returned followed by two men, one wheeling a wooden barrow in front of him. Inside the barrow was a body tightly wrapped with cloth.

They followed the men past tombstones of various sizes and materials, from marble edifices to short wooden planks hammered into the ground, until they came to a stop before a large pit containing other cloth-wrapped corpses.

“Wait,” said Caldan. They were going to dump her in a mass grave? “I’ve ducats for a private burial.”

“That’ll be a silver.”

Caldan handed over the coin without looking up. The two men pushed the barrow to another section of the cemetery, where there was a row of individual grave sites.

They stopped before one and tipped Elpidia into the hole, where she hit the bottom with a thud. Without waiting, the men scurried off, taking their barrow with them. Two shovels stuck out of a pile of loose dirt to the side, but it looked like they were in no hurry to fill the grave in.

Caldan stared at Elpidia’s body, not knowing what to say or do. Behind him, he heard Joachim pacing impatiently.

Eventually, he tossed the flowers onto her body, picked up a shovel, and began to fill the grave.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Struggling with weariness and their wounds in the aftermath, Aidan decided to risk using sorcerous globes to provide enough light to see by. He was confident they’d encountered the only pack of jukari in the area.

Taking the time to physik their injuries as best they could, they rested for a bit, but no one was able to sleep. The clearing had taken on an eerie look as the night began to fade.

After stitching and bandaging their wounds, Aidan directed them to gather whatever they could. He ignored Chalayan and Vasile’s protests, because they wasted valuable time that could be used to get far away from here.

“Maybe there’s something here that’ll provide a clue as to why the jukari and vormag have returned,” said Aidan. He used a boot to prod at the pile of the creatures’ belongings they’d gathered after the fight.

Part of him felt there were answers here, ones they couldn’t afford to ignore. Not if the jukari and their sorcerously created masters were returning. They had time, he was sure. The group that had attacked them was most likely a scouting party. But time lost brought their pursuers ever closer. They’d need to be about this quickly.

Cel Rau nodded, poking at the objects with a finger, from where he squatted to the side.

Aidan winced as he moved too hastily and jarred his arm. He’d come out the other side of their encounter relatively unscathed, compared to Vasile anyway.

He glanced at the magistrate, who sat with his back against a tree, face pale and sweating with the immense pain he must be feeling. They’d splinted and bandaged his arm as best they could, but Aidan feared he could lose it if a competent physiker didn’t administer to him soon. His own arm had been tended to as well, but as his was a clean break, he wasn’t in as much pain as Vasile. A cold comfort.

Chalayan was brewing some herbs in water for Vasile over a fire he’d started remarkably quickly. And smiling, always smiling since the fight. Aidan knew why, too. He’d thought the sorcerer’s quest for knowledge would become a problem. With what he’d figured out from watching Mazoet and listening to Vasile, Chalayan had started on a path few had returned from. Those that died had been killed by the Protectors or bands like theirs, on commission from the emperor. A dangerous path indeed, and one he needed to talk with Chalayan about, lest the sorcerer go the way of so many before him. It might even be too late. Chalayan was a problem for another day, though. Right now, Aidan needed to concentrate on the jukari and vormag’s belongings.

Cel Rau put the creatures’ weapons to the side. They were well made and worth some ducats to collectors, but too heavy for humans to wield properly. They’d have to leave them here with the bodies.

Aidan knelt and helped cel Rau sort out the vormag’s
crafting
s into a small pile. There weren’t many, but more than usual for a single vormag. It could be nothing, but still… Thoughts niggled in his mind about the vormag. This one, along with the few they’d seen days ago when they first came across the jukari gathering, were far more than he’d ever heard of appearing together, let alone seen for himself. A virtual population explosion of vormag, gathered in one corner of the empire. His guts twisted at the thought of the evil they would do. The beasts from the Shattering needed to be killed. Their unnaturalness couldn’t be tolerated.

Cel Rau pointed at a thin leather-bound book, and Aidan nodded. He’d been avoiding it, didn’t want to touch it, but it had to be done. The only other vormag he’d seen, killed when he’d just joined Caitlyn’s company, had carried one as well. He hadn’t been able to examine that book, as Caitlyn had burned it immediately. The thought these creatures had their own written language made him sick, and their foul use of sorcery was even worse. They had no right to have survived the Shattering. They should have died along with their creators.

Taking a breath, Aidan reached for the book, skin cringing as he touched the leather. It was probably only cow or goat, but still… he wouldn’t put it past them to use human skin.

He flipped the book open to reveal pages of indecipherable angular letters, along with the occasional cryptic diagram. He sighed. It wouldn’t be of any use, but he tucked it into his shirt anyway.

“Gather up the
crafting
s, and we’ll dump them in the first pond or lake we come across. No point leaving them out here for anyone to find, or to be returned to the jukari.”

Cel Rau nodded. “Best we be going, anyway.”

“Yes. Once Vasile’s had some of Chalayan’s brew. And I might have some.” He looked over cel Rau’s bandaged calf. “You should drink some as well.”

Cel Rau laughed gruffly. “I’d rather drink fermented horse piss.”

But Aidan saw his eyes flick to the fire. He was in pain; they all were. The only one to come out unscathed had been Chalayan, and Aidan feared the sorcerer had become more powerful than even he himself had dreamed.

He watched as Chalayan stirred his herbal potion, then looked around at the pieces of jukari and vormag around the clearing.

Though Aidan was more concerned about Mazoet and the other sorcerers around Gazija, Chalayan couldn’t be allowed to go his own way. He wouldn’t take pleasure in the deed, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d killed one of their own. Chalayan wasn’t the only sorcerer who’d dreamed of the powers before the Shattering, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Aidan narrowed his eyes and allowed himself a tight smile. Chalayan’s newfound knowledge presented its own problems, but in the meantime, they’d be able to use it to their advantage, depending on how much control the sorcerer had.

Leaving cel Rau gathering up the jukari’s
crafting
s, he approached Chalayan.

“Won’t be long,” said the sorcerer. “Just a few more minutes to steep.”

Aidan remained standing for a moment and sighed inwardly. If he pushed Chalayan, would that hasten him down the path of destruction? There was no way of knowing, but they needed all the help they could get. He squatted next to the fire, upwind and away from the smoke.

“Chalayan,” he said, “what are you able to do now? And how is it possible?” He needed as much information on this sorcery as he could get. Knowledge was usually the key to defeating something.

Chalayan flicked him a glance then returned to stirring his mixture. “I’m not sure… I was experimenting, and when the vormag appeared, I became desperate… tried a few things. I lost control, and it almost did for me.” He gave half a laugh. “But I managed to close my well for an instant before everything went awry. It’ll take years to work things out, and Mazoet… I’ve no idea how he did most of his sorcery. Likely he has access to lifetimes’ worth of knowledge, and probably training. What I know is, my
crafting
s are useless for this.” Chalayan shook his head. “It’s a whole different way of looking at sorcery and the wells. Almost obvious, when you think of it, but who would?”

Aidan wasn’t sure he liked the idea that Mazoet, and likely Luphildern Quiss and Gazija, were sorcerers who were adept at destructive sorcery Chalayan thought would take lifetimes to master. It spoke of an organization of sorcerers hoarding knowledge since the Shattering, and hiding in plain sight for centuries.

“Can you craft anything that might delay our pursuers?”

“Maybe… probably. Whatever I craft wouldn’t last long, but it might be enough.”

“Good. I’ll take over here, and you can get started. But first, we need to know what this new type of sorcery entails. Explain it in terms I can understand. One day soon, our lives may depend on it.”

Chalayan scratched his ear, taking a few moments to think. “It’s as Vasile said a while ago, when we were talking about it. I thought nothing of it at the time, but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. I found myself thinking about it constantly when we traveled, and at night. You see,
crafting
s are only as good as the materials used and the sorcerer making them—”