Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (61 page)

A final check of the equipment in the smith-
crafting
forge assured him all was in good order and he wouldn’t be scrambling for tools and bits and pieces when he needed them. He requisitioned a fist-sized lump of casting wax from the master in charge and waited while an apprentice scurried off to get it for him.

The girl reappeared, and he took the wax, thanking her, and returned to Miranda’s room. There, he exchanged a few words with the physiker, who reassured him Miranda was comfortable, and that she’d return in the evening. When the physiker left, he relaxed in a chair, massaging the ball of wax in his hands. He still hadn’t decided what to actually smith-craft tomorrow, but he needed to make his mind up soon.

Caldan double-checked the door was locked before removing a metal arrowhead from his pocket—the only thing, apart from his own possessions, he’d taken from Joachim’s hideout. It was covered in tiny runes seemingly scribed onto the metal, but he could see, and feel, they were slightly raised. How they’d been drawn on the metal was a mystery to him, but they certainly hadn’t been inked.

The arrows were a complex
crafting
, and he didn’t even recognize half of the runes. Each had a standard single link, and an anchor along with a buffer, but after that, he couldn’t fathom what they were designed to do. Or rather, he knew what they did, not how they did it. He thought back to the night raid with Simmon and Jazintha, where he’d killed the rogue sorcerer… His sword had pierced the shield somehow. At the time, he’d thought he’d been able to penetrate the sorcerer’s shield because of his sudden burst of speed and strength.

Now, though… Could it have been his
trinket
?

Touching the surface of the ring, he traced the knot-work pattern and the stylized lion. Joachim might have told him, eventually. Maybe. But everything the warlock had said was now suspect. Caldan was left having to rely on his own intuition and perceptions.

Miranda stirred, interrupting his thoughts. She squirmed, breath coming fast. Caldan stroked her brow and hair until she calmed. He couldn’t stand much more of seeing her in such a debilitated state. He glanced at the satchel containing his copied books, could feel them beckoning him. His
crafting
could wait until tomorrow. If all else failed, he could just make another shielding wristband similar to the one he’d made before. At the moment, there were more important things to worry about.

Removing the books, he took out a sorcerous globe and positioned it to provide light to read by when the sun set. With a tingling sense of trepidation, he chose the basic text on coercive sorcery and turned to the first page.

•

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door. Caldan rubbed his eyes. By the ancestors, he was tired. He groaned as he shifted his weight and ran his tongue around his parched lips. Time had flown, and he’d forgotten to drink or eat. A glance at the window confirmed it was night, and he stood up, staggering, as one of his legs had fallen asleep.

He quickly hid the coercive sorcery books in his satchel and opened the door. Of course, the physiker again. He smiled and exchanged pleasantries with her as she entered and busied herself with Miranda’s care. She stopped and raised an eyebrow at him as he looked on, and he stammered apologies. Gathering his satchel, he left the room.

Caldan’s stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d gone too long without eating, but he decided to forego the Protectors’ dining hall. He was sure the place would be buzzing with rumors about the previous night’s activities, and he’d rather not have to fend off the questions of the apprentices and journeymen. Besides, the food they served wasn’t what he needed right now. After such a loss of blood, he required nourishment to replenish himself.

Close by the inn where he’d played Dominion, there was a night market with plenty of restaurants. A short walk, and he decided on a quiet-looking place where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Not long after that, he was presented with a platter of roast beef and potatoes, along with a large bowl of greens. Setting to, he turned his thoughts to
crafting
and coercive sorcery.

Both books had been enlightening, to say the least. As he’d thought, Bells had been sparse in her explanations, claiming the sorcery was too complex to be learnt in a short space of time. But from the descriptions and diagrams in the books, it made a certain sense to him how coercive sorcery worked. It was intricate, there was no doubt about that, but no more complicated than a game of Dominion against an expert opponent. He was starting to realize the most complex sorcery was not only about practice; it was also dependent upon how many strings from your well you could split off and control. There were exceptions, such as the Bleeder, but in the end, it came down to talent.

The very first shield-
crafting
lesson he’d received back in Anasoma had been designed to separate out who could split their wells into multiple strings. Only two at that stage, but it gave the masters an idea of who had potential. And as he’d seen with the crafted locks they used in their library here, he’d hazard a guess that most journeymen never progressed past three or four strings.

Caldan thought back to what Bells had told him about multiple strings—‘Coercive sorcery requires at least seven threads split from a well, and a deft handling of each.’

It meshed with what he’d reasoned. He almost cursed when he realized he’d revealed to the masters he could maintain five strings. They might become suspicious if he let them know he was training himself to extend past five strings. If he was a master in the Protectors, that’s one of the signs he’d be keeping an eye out for. Who he could trust was still in question, and for the time being, he had to keep his abilities to himself until he knew more.

What he needed to do was present the masters with a journeyman
crafting
more impressive than any they’d seen, without showing his true progress. If they were awed enough, he might be granted certain privileges and access to restricted knowledge, and quite possibly he’d be able to convince them to leave him to his own devices, rather than take on the usual journeyman duties. If he was left mostly alone, he would be free to experiment with coercive sorcery and look for a way to heal Miranda.

He had an idea, but would it be enough? Powerful but unoriginal… He needed to smith-craft a second item to really make an impression on the masters. His new automaton was almost finished, and it was certainly original. The sorcerous mechanical crosses were not unknown in history, but they were rare. Few sorcerers could fashion them, and as yet no one had come up with a use for them that was worth a sorcerer’s time and ducats to create. It seemed a sound choice for a second
crafting
.

With his mind made up, Caldan returned to Miranda’s room, finding the physiker gone. Well, he wasn’t paying the physiker to stay in the room and do nothing. She must have finished her tasks and left, having other business to attend to.

Though it was late and he had a lot of work to get through tomorrow, Caldan took some time to review his
crafting
designs. Making minute changes to some of the schematics, based on his decisions in the restaurant, he smiled. Bells’
crafting
s and his own theories had brought his sorcery along in leaps and bounds. The masters would have no choice but to promote him to journeyman, and then he could join in the fight against the Indryallans in earnest, no longer a lowly apprentice to be looked down upon. Already, his knowledge of sorcery far outstripped what he’d learnt at the monastery, and he possibly knew more than many masters did, in theory, anyway.

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Why the change of plan?” asked Izak.

Felice considered a number of different ways to answer the question. In truth, she wasn’t sure herself this was the best option, but it had to be better than returning straight to Rebecci. Softy, softly she must step. The path before her was narrow, and on either side loomed a bottomless pit. If she couldn’t manage to walk it… any misstep, no matter how small, could be the death of her.

“You,” she said to the heavy that had broken Savine’s arm, allowing Izak time to finish him off. “What’s your name?”

The man paused for a moment, glancing at his comrades, who were out of earshot. “Rebecci told us no names. It’s safer that way.”

Felice tapped her cheek. “Then nameless you shall remain. I want you to stay close to Izak. You’ve shown you’ve some initiative, and I don’t think this is over yet.”

“What?” hissed Izak. “What are you up to?”

“Me? Nothing. We’ve just killed one of their top sorcerers, who, I might add, is linked to Rebecci and that company of hers in some way. When they find out, I’ve no doubt Kelhak and his Indryallans will retaliate. We’ll need to prepare for that eventuality.”

“But—”

“Enough, Izak,” she snapped. “Give me room to breathe, and to think.”

Catching the other heavies’ attention, she waved them over. “I have need of your services for a while longer. I know you were meant to disappear once the job was done, but I’m sure Rebecci will see you well compensated.”

Their leader shrugged. “Sure. What do you need us to do?”

“Protect us, for now. We need to find a safe place and send a message to Rebecci to organize a meeting. There are some things I need to discuss with her.”

“Why don’t we just go meet her now?” asked the man who’d helped Izak.

“Because it might not be safe. We could be followed, or the sorcerer’s friends might already know he’s dead and be coming after us.”

Izak frowned. “How would they know he’s dead?”

“Because they’re sorcerers.” Felice waggled her fingers at him. “Who knows what they’re capable of.”

“You would. That’s your job: information on everything.”

“True, but there are always surprises. It takes a smart person to realize they mightn’t know everything about a subject, especially when they think they know everything. And I’m a smart person.”

Izak shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense. If you know everything about something, then you should think you don’t?”

“Exactly. Now, if you don’t mind, I need time to think.”

She left the men standing there and strolled across the street, sitting on the step of someone’s doorway. They were exposed here, too close to the purified land and the scene of her successful murder, but she’d been reluctant to head off in any direction before she formulated a plan.

Think, she urged herself. What’s your best option? You pride yourself on your Dominion game, and here you are paralyzed, unsure of yourself and what the best move is.

As Izak paced back and forth in front of the heavies, she discarded a number of scenarios as being too risky, and another two as being incredibly stupid. Really, she only had one choice, which was no choice at all.

She stood. “Right. Time to send a message to Rebecci.”

“I’ll take it,” said the arm-breaking heavy. “Just tell me what to say and where to go.”

“No. A written message is safer. Besides, I’ve no idea where she’ll be. It’s best if we arrange a meeting. So… I’ll need a pen and paper.” She looked at the heavies for a moment. “Nevermind. We’ll have to find some. It’s just as well we’re in Parkside, then. I’m sure one of these nice nobles will be able to help us. Or one of their servants.”

A short time later, Felice exited a noble’s mansion through the servants’ door. A few well-placed ducats and she’d been able to persuade one of the servants her master wouldn’t miss a few sheets of paper, along with a pen and ink.

She squinted up at the moon and went to join Izak and the men, who’d waited outside across the street.

“Izak, bend over.”

“What?”

“Just bend over. I need a table to write on.”

“Oh, as you wish.”

Felice directed him to a position where the light of the moon was sufficient to see by, and hastily scrawled on a page. It wasn’t long before she found a street urchin to deliver it to the offices of the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern. She frowned at the girl’s back as she ran down the street toward Dockside. Even in such a wealthy district as Parkside, children were homeless. She’d never realized how bad it was for some families. Delivering Felice’s message was probably the most savory thing the girl had done for a ducat for a long time.

Felice shook her head. The Mahruse Empire wasn’t perfect, but… she’d no idea what some girls had to do to avoid starvation. And she didn’t want to know. Once the Indryallans had been dealt with, she vowed she’d make some changes.

With Izak and the heavies in tow, she led them in the same direction the girl had gone: Dockside. It wasn’t long before the wide, tree-lined streets of Parkside gave way to the less wide streets of Five Flowers. Owing to the inhabitants’ luxurious lifestyles, a few of the streets they passed through were teeming with activity, even at this late hour. Various food stalls stretched down side streets and alleys off the main road, mostly congregating close to intersections with clusters of taverns and inns. The scent of roasted spices and herbs overlaid the ever present stench of the city, though in Five Flowers the perpetual stink wasn’t nearly as bad as in Dockside or Slag Hill.

At one such street, Felice made them stop at a restaurant and eat, buying the men a few jugs of ale to share between them. They drank happily while consuming vast quantities of bread and meat of an unknown origin heavily loaded with garlic and a spicy red paste. Maybe goat? No reputable restaurant was open at this time, and this place was the best she could do. It got them off the street and made them less visible, and she needed to waste some time.

Hardly a word was spoken between them as the massive platter of meat rapidly diminished before her eyes. The heavies poured cups of ale for everyone, and Felice and Izak joined them in a toast.

Felice’s eyes narrowed as Izak drank along with the heavies. She did her best to hide her expression. “Izak, I thought you didn’t like ale. Always drinking whatever abominable spirit was the latest fashion.”

“Nothing wrong with joining the men here in a toast, is there?”