Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (50 page)

“I know. Everyone knows—”

“Let me finish. It’s not the only factor; the skill and talent of the sorcerer making the
crafting
also plays a part, so two
crafting
s made of exactly the same materials could have different strengths. Destructive sorcery goes against all I’ve been taught. Against everything any sorcerer’s been told. The easiest way to explain it is as a trick to bypass the
crafting
, but the
crafting
is still essential.”

Aidan held up a hand. “Wait. That doesn’t make much sense.”

Chalayan licked his lips, began to speak, then paused. “How do you control a force that’s too strong to flow through a normal metal
crafting
?”

“I don’t know,” replied Aidan, glaring at him.

“You don’t. At least, not through the
crafting
in the usual way. You create a
crafting
which itself creates a force to control the power. Do you see?”

Aidan nodded slowly. He did see. “Like the shield
crafting
s?”

“Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. But similar. The destructive sorcery doesn’t flow through the
crafting
but through channels created by the
crafting
. That way, the
crafting
’s strength isn’t withstanding the forces, as they’re not flowing through it.”

“So, a wooden
crafting
could create as much destructive sorcery as the best metal
crafting
the Sorcerers’ Guild could make?”

“Yes.”

“In other words, any sorcerer could use it, and be as powerful as the sorcerers that caused the Shattering.”

“Well… with a lot of training, and they’d have to know how to make the
crafting
s, but…” Chalayan’s gaze flicked to him then away. “I guess…”

“How were you able to create your
crafting
s to test your ideas, if you had no idea how destructive sorcery worked before Vasile inadvertently put you on the right track?”

Chalayan shrugged. “It’s a simple reversal of the shield
crafting
s, though I doubt many would know the runes. The shields are designed to keep things out, whereas destructive sorcery needs to keep things in.”

Though it didn’t make much sense to him—wouldn’t they be the same?—Aidan nodded. “This looks like it’s ready. I’ll pour some for Vasile and cel Rau, and for myself. You get to work on those
crafting
s. I want a few nasty surprises waiting for the jukari chasing us.”

Though he looked doubtful, Chalayan nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but… I need to experiment to get the
crafting
s right.”

“Time we don’t have. Do your best.” Aidan glanced to the east and judged it wouldn’t be long before full daylight. All things considered, they were fortunate to only lose half a day, but they were pretty beat up. It was Vasile he was worried for; another spell of traveling at the hard pace they’d kept up for the last few days wouldn’t be good for his arm.

“We’ll leave in an hour,” Aidan continued. “You’d better get to work.”

Chalayan cursed and grimaced, but knew better than to complain. Whatever the sorcerer came up with would be better than nothing, and they all needed the extra rest.

Aidan found three cups among their belongings and poured equal quantities of the concoction, before adding an extra measure to Vasile’s. He rummaged through his gear until he found a cloth-covered green vial filled with a powerful painkiller, a mixture of concentrated poppyseed oil and other extracts. There was no point saving it; if there was ever a time it was needed, this was it.

With care, he dosed Vasile’s cup with five drops, paused, then added two more. The magistrate would need all the help he could get in the next few days, if he was to make it to Riversedge alive.

•

Luphildern Quiss followed Gazija a short distance away from the encampment toward the sea. The First Deliverer refused his assistance, though the walk obviously pained him. Often, his walking sticks would drag across the ground rather than be lifted up, as if even the weight of such small objects was too much for him. It distressed Quiss greatly to see Gazija in such a state, though he understood the need for him to show the others the way.

The easiest paths are often the ones leading to evil, thought Quiss. They all knew that, but some forgot. He shook his head in disgust. How they could forget, after what had befallen them all, he would never understand, but the trauma of their existence affected every single one of them differently.

He trailed behind Gazija slowly, close enough to catch him if he fell. To his great relief, that didn’t happen, and they ended up at the top of a cliff overlooking the bay where their ship was moored.

A cold wind from the south whipped at their clothes, chilling Quiss to the bone. He still wasn’t used to this place and its alien landscape. Bright orange clouds obscured the setting sun and gave the sea’s surface a warming glow, despite the biting wind. Dark clouds gathered to the south.

“Good,” said Gazija, voice cracking. The old man cleared his throat before speaking again. “This wind will speed our friends’ arrival.”

“They’re not our friends. Far from it. They are mercenaries.”

Gazija harrumphed. “Anyone that does what you want is a friend.”

Quiss remained silent. This place had changed all of them, Gazija no exception. Though all remembered him as their savior, he’d become harder during their time here. Hope was almost lost for them, and the strain of their predicament was showing.

“We’ll come through this,” he said. “Savine and the others will see reason, eventually. We’ll survive, as we always have.”

“I don’t want us to just survive,” snapped Gazija. He remained still, clutching his walking sticks, peering out over the ocean.

For a long time, they remained there, unmoving in the wind as it gained in strength. Southward, the dark clouds roiled toward them, now covering half the sky. Flashes of lightning illuminated them from within. A distant rumble reached their ears.

Gazija turned and began the walk to their camp. “Let’s return. There’s a storm coming.”

Chapter Thirty

As Amerdan slipped through the door into their apartment, Bells stopped fiddling with her
crafting
s and glanced at him. She brushed dark hair over one ear before returning to her work.

He knew she was using him physically, as a release, and he’d better keep in mind he was nothing but a tool to her. She probably thought she had him fooled it was something more, but all sorcerers were alike. He went to her and murmured sweet words of endearment. It wouldn’t do for her to suspect, not at all. She was useful now, and this development could be used to accelerate his progress.

On the other side of the room, at the bottom of a leather pack he’d purchased and filled with spare clothes and gear, he could sense Dotty squirm with irritation and impatience.

Bells briefly touched his hand. “Did you get the tools I asked for?”

“Yes.” He dug into the basket he carried and handed her the metal clasps and pliers.

“Thank you.” Bells returned to the table and set them down. “Did anyone see you?”

“No. I also bought some bread and a cake, if you’re hungry?” He felt a stab of amusement at feeding Bells the food he’d taken from Elpidia’s corpse.

“I am hungry, but…” She glanced reluctantly toward her
crafting
s then back to him. “I can finish this later, once we’ve eaten. I’m afraid we’ve only cheese left to go with it.”

“I thought, after eating, you could try to unblock my wells again.”

“Of course. But it’ll hurt. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Amerdan placed the basket on the table and removed the loaf. Taking his knife out, he examined it to ensure he hadn’t missed any of Elpidia’s blood then, satisfied it was clean, began cutting slices of bread. The disorderly state of the table and the mess irritated him, but he swallowed his displeasure and tried to remain as calm as he could.

He thought of something appropriate to say. “If it means I’m your equal, then I’ll bear it.”

“I’m sure I’m close to breaking through one of the blocks; it won’t be long now. And you’ll see. The God-Emperor will value your uniqueness highly. You’ll be greatly rewarded for your loyalty.”

His hand holding the knife twitched. It was all he could do not to slit her open right there. Calm, he told himself. Not yet. She’s needed.

But when should he? He’d pondered this since she claimed she could unblock his wells. If she succeeded with one, would she have outlived her usefulness, or should he allow her to continue with the rest? If it wasn’t her, he’d need another. Or would he? Was it possible he’d be able to do it himself, once he was a sorcerer? It was doubtful; not without training. And that was another thing she could offer. Knowledge and expertise, given willingly and without reservation.

Her scrabbling inside his mind, and in bed, was a torture he’d have to endure for the time being.

He cut slices of cheese and placed them on the bread, and together they ate. He tuned out most of her chatter as she talked about Indryalla and its splendor, and the greatness of the God-Emperor, who she was apparently related to, as were most of the sorcerers there.

“Excuse me, what was that? How could one man have so many children and grandchildren?”

Bells laughed, a tinkling, irritating sound. “He’s a god. He’s ageless, and has blessed us with his offspring. We’re called his daughters, us women, just as the men are called his sons, but I’m actually a great-great-granddaughter.”

Interesting. “How has he lived so long?”

“Because he’s divine. He can even heal the sick and diseased. We owe everything to him. Without the God-Emperor, our sorcery wouldn’t be far in advance of the empire’s. He freely shares his knowledge, and his compassion.”

There was fervent worship in her voice, and Amerdan chose his next words carefully. He didn’t want to jeopardize their newfound arrangement yet.

“I can’t wait to… serve him,” he uttered with a false tone of pride.

“It’s because of his kindness we invaded Anasoma. The empire is evil. You’ve seen the way it treats its citizens. All it wants is to have everyone under its control and squeeze ducats from them. Taxes and more taxes, ducats wasted on building monuments and edifices to its own imagined greatness. It has to be stopped. The God-Emperor wants everyone to be free.”

Amerdan nodded, thinking to himself that one empire was as bad as another, no matter who was in charge. Replacing the emperor with a God-Emperor didn’t seem like a beneficial change to him. In fact, it looked like a change for the worse, for more control and oppression under an apparently immortal tyrant.

“Well,” he said. “Then we’d better work on my blocks. The quicker they’re broken, the better I can serve you… and the God-Emperor.”

Bells stood and took his hand, leading him to the bed. “It’ll be years of training before you’ll become a master sorcerer. But I’m confident you will. Now, lie down; you’ll likely pass out, as you did before.”

Amerdan complied and looked up into her face. She was pretty, but that wasn’t a talent he wanted; it was her talent for sorcery and her well he had his eyes on.

“Close your eyes, my love. I wish this didn’t hurt, but…”

“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “I trust you.”

Closing his eyes, he squeezed his mind into a tight ball, preparing for the onslaught of pain. Whatever he had to bear to become a sorcerer was worth it. He’d be the first sorcerer with multiple wells, more powerful than any of them. Perhaps greater than even the God-Emperor.

•

Amerdan came to still lying on the bed. Bells wiped a damp cloth under his nose and crooned softly to herself. He felt himself relax as she continued to wipe away the blood that had come from his nose, periodically rinsing the cloth in a bowl of warm water. Her ministrations were soothing, and this made him uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

His head felt heavy and sore, and he turned to face Bells, wincing as the movement brought a fresh wave of pain.

“It’s… tolerable,” he replied.

She rinsed the cloth again, and this time wiped his brow and the rest of his face. “You were sweating a lot. You’ll need to bathe, once you’re able to get up.”

Amerdan refrained from nodding.

Bells folded the cloth and placed it on the bed next to him. Gently, she took his head in both hands.

“Ah…” he gasped.

“I’m sorry. It’ll fade soon. Can you feel anything?”

He met her eyes. “Did you…?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

Ignoring the throbbing pain, Amerdan closed his eyes and extended his senses into his mind, feeling for… what? He had hardly been able to feel the wells himself before. Yet there was something… an absence where she’d spent hours scratching and probing. A thin veil. Beyond was a roiling, chaotic force, and he pulled back.

“Did you feel it?” asked Bells intently.

“Yes.”

“It is done. That’s one well mostly unblocked. It’ll take some time to get used to it, and for me to teach you how to use
crafting
s. Making your own will have to come later. And once you’ve recovered, I can work on your other well, though it’ll be harder. It’s blockage is stronger, smoother. It feels more recent… if that makes any sense.”

“No. But I’ll take your word for it.” Except it did make sense to him. Inwardly, he was grinning, his satisfaction at becoming a sorcerer only eclipsed by his hatred for them. Now he was one of them. What did that mean? He couldn’t hate himself. No, there must be a reason this had happened to him.

He looked at the pommel of his knife, sheathed at his belt, then at Bells.

Not yet. She had more work to do. And until he could ensure Caldan would take over from her she was still useful.

•

“Joachim and his lies,” cursed Caldan softly.

Elpidia was dead, and the pattern of logic led him, and Joachim, to believe it might have been Amerdan who’d killed her. Another liar. And Bells had lied to him, too.

Caldan paced back and forth in front of Miranda. Her color had improved, but again, he doubted whether what Joachim had told him about her recovery was the whole truth.