Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (25 page)

“None of us argues against that, Mya,” Mum says. “But when he accuses our daughter—”

“We aren’t getting into that again,” Mya raises her hand and interrupts Mum. “We all agree that we trust Azi and there’s no basis for him to be suspicious of her. Some new information has come to light that complicates things, but we need to organize ourselves before we go to His Majesty with it. Thankfully, I think Tib here has some knowledge that will help. He’s been in the attackers’ stronghold, apparently, so His Majesty will have a proper focus.”

“What? Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Bryse slaps his hands on the table. “How’d you manage that? What did you see, boy?”

“Where is it?” Elliot asks.

“How many are in there?” Da leans toward Tib.

“I don’t know how many, or where it is,” he replies. “I know there are at least a few Sorcerers, and some guards. The Sorcerers aren’t the ones in charge, though. I don’t think so, anyway. They answered to creatures. Like fairies, only black. With black skin and wings. They could talk in the Sorcerers’ minds, but I could hear them. They’re the ones who took the prince. I could feel him.”

“Feel him?” Mya leans across the table to Tib. “What do you mean?”

“The magic was thick there,” Tib explains. “It was all over. Heavy and strong. Cruel. I felt an excitement around the prince. Like they were doing something to his remains. Planning something. The Sorcerer that held me got yelled at for bringing me too close to that place.”

“Necromancy,” a deep voice in the doorway makes us all jump. Uncle Gaethon shakes his head darkly as he ushers Rian in and whispers stronger wards across the door. “They mean to raise him.”

The two Mages, Master and Mentor, cross the room together. Rian takes a seat beside me, but Uncle chooses to pace while thoughtfully stroking his beard.

“Just before the attack,” he explains, “we noticed that several transcribed titles from our libraries had gone missing. Tomes which had been copied to send to Sunteri, to replenish their libraries. They shared a common theme: that of the afterlife. Necromancy. Restoring that which has perished. These tomes were highly protected, deeply secret, and only permitted for study by the highest ranking Mages of the Academy. Within our walls, they were never to be practiced. Their knowledge was only meant to be gleaned in order to educate those who might seek to fight against it.

“There were many arguments against transcribing these tomes for Sunteri’s library. In the end, those who argued for them were the winning voice.” He stops behind Rian and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“My most trusted student was given the task of copying those tomes,” he says, and Rian pales a little. “Several wards of protection were placed upon them before they were taken to the binder, and yet they still managed to escape our watchful eyes.”

He turns and for the first time faces me. When he does, his brow rises so high that it nearly gets lost in his arched hairline.

“Niece,” he says, and when he speaks, I’m surprised his voice is filled with relief rather than scolding. “Rian has explained to me the manner of your recent travels. It did not take long to conclude that your journeys have been orchestrated in an effort to balance out this recent darkness. This threat.”

He turns to the others, who are listening with rapt attention.

“I urge us all to rally behind our new Paladin in the quest which has been bestowed upon her. The balance of all things is in jeopardy, and I believe she and Rian and their relations with Kythshire will be the only hope of restoring order and peace to our great city, and comfort to our king. We at the Academy have been watching the approach of a great convergence for some time now. That event is growing near, and we must do what we can to guide it to the Light.”

“Azi,” Mya says in a hushed tone, “perhaps you ought to read the letter again, now that we’re all here.”

Tib

Everything’s quiet while Azi reads the letter aloud. As soon as she finishes, Saesa gasps and clings to my arm. Azi looks up at her. Everyone else does, too.

“Errie,” Saesa whispers and glances at me. She looks back at the table of Elite. “Sorry,” she says, “it’s just…”

“You know of a son other than the young prince?” Master Gaethon asks Saesa. He’s been pacing all this time, but he stops in front of her and his jaw clenches. “Other than Amei’s child?”

“We never spoke of it, sir, but a palace maid came to live with us in the manse nearly three years ago,” Saesa explains. “She was forced to leave her position due to her condition.” She whispers the last. “Her name is Maisie. She named her son Errie.”

“Bold of her,” Cort smirks.

“Where is she now?” Master Gaethon asks.

“She married a kind old merchant,” Saesa replies. “They live on Ansten Row, near the center market.”

“Rian,” Master Gaethon leans over his student. Rian doesn’t hear at first. He’s busy writing something down. He slides it to Azi. I don’t bother looking. Someday I’ll get around to learning to read.

“You’ll find the answer you seek in Orivosak,” Rian says, like a quote of something only the two of them know.

“Orivosak,” Azi murmurs. “Kaso Viro.” She looks a little relieved at the discovery, but the rest of us are puzzled.

“When we were away,” Rian pauses like he’s trying to find the right words, “we were given a quest. To find a hidden city and claim it for the Dawn, to keep the Dusk from doing so. If we succeed, the city will belong to Cerion. We were told to look for instructions on how to reach it in Orivosak. I thought it was a place.” He takes a book from the folds of his robes and puts it on the table. “It’s not, though. It’s a person. Orivosak is Kaso Viro, backwards.”

“Indeed,” Master Gaethon says. “But the letter explicitly lists that which must be done before you seek Kaso Viro.”

“Right,” Mya says, “the first of which is ensuring the safety of the sons of the prince.”

“If they get their hands on a relative of Eron,” Rian says with fear, “especially a descendant, they’ll succeed. They’ll raise him, and he’ll be theirs to command.”

“It’s unthinkable,” Mya shivers. “Imagine what His Majesty would do at the sight of it.”

“Precisely,” Gaethon agrees. “Amei’s son is safe enough. He’s quite well protected by the wards of the palace, and in addition he has come into possession of a powerful item gifted by the princess’s homeland. It seems they had the foresight to bestow extra protections on the lad.”

“The vest,” I nod, remembering Loren’s satchel. “Loren brought it.” I explain to Saesa.

“Loren?” Master Gaethon asks.

“He’s an apprentice,” I explain. “From Stepstone. His master sent him with it, for the prince.” I explain to them about the fight with Celli in the alley, and how when Loren delivered the vest to Finn, I was suspicious.

“Interesting,” Gaethon says. “I should like to meet this apprentice.”

“Where is he now?” Azi asks as her eyes scan the page again.

“Sleeping,” Saesa whispers, “At Nessa’s. We weren’t sure whether he was trustworthy, but Nessa didn’t want to turn him out.” She avoids Master Gaethon’s gaze as she explains. “Lilen put a sleep spell on him. He’s been resting in the spare room ever since.”

“Lilen,” Master Gaethon mutters, “is that so?”

“Yes, sir,” Saesa whispers, a little pale.

“Remarkable,” is all he says. He scratches his beard and turns back to the others.

“One son protected,” Mya says with a satisfied nod. “And another located. We’ll offer them wards for now until we can break the news to Tirnon.”

“What if there are more?” Azi asks. “More than two sons?”

“There is a way to find out,” Gaethon sighs, “though it means dabbling further than our reach permits.”

“What do you mean, Gaethon?” Mya asks.

“Blood magic,” he answers darkly. “A drop of blood from any of the royal family would guide us to others of their line.”

I think of Quenson standing on the dais at the front of the High Court, holding a dripping burlap bag.

“How long does it take?” I ask. “That spell?”

Gaethon turns to me.

“It is fairly immediate,” he says.

“They already know about Errie, then,” I scowl.

“Most likely,” Gaethon nods.

“So why are we standing here?” I start for the door. Rian gets up, too. Azi joins him, but Mya shakes her head.

“Azi, we need you here. Rian and Tib, go ahead,” she says. “Outfit yourself first, Tib.” She points to a door that’s unfamiliar to me. “Hurry. Offer them a place here, if they need it.”

“Wait,” Saesa calls. At first I think she’s going to want to come, too, but instead she holds out the wand to Rian. “This is why I came here tonight. Loren had it on him. I think it was meant for you.”

Gaethon cranes his neck to watch as Rian takes the wand from Saesa. As soon as it touches his fingertips, I feel a change. A charge. A melding. It binds to Rian. He rolls the ivory between his fingers. The room goes silent.

“
Greetings, Rian
,” a woman’s voice echoes in his mind. One that only he and I can hear. “
It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Aster. I belong to Kaso Viro. I’m here to help, but you must return me when our work is finished.
”

“Thanks, Saesa,” Rian nods to her. He tucks the wand into his pocket and bends to kiss Azi.

“Wait,” Mya says just as we’re about to leave. “Tib, before you go, tell us about the keep. Could you tell where it was?”

“Not really,” I say with a shake of my head. I’m too concerned about Maisie and Errie to focus on her question, but I try to. “I was only outside for a short time, and I could only see it from a cliff below. It was a stout keep. Short. It had colored glass windows. The south wall looked crumbled. Like ruins. The rest of it was all right, though. There were flags flapping from some of the towers. Red and orange and all torn up.”

If it was quiet before, it’s even quieter now.

“Impossible,” Bryse growls eventually.

“It’s a coincidence. It has to be,” Mya whispers. “Elliot.”

“I’m halfway there already,” Elliot murmurs in his sleep.

“What?” I look from them to Saesa, who seems just as shocked as the rest of them.

“Orange and red,” she whispers, “are Redemption’s colors.”

“Don’t,” Mya scowls. “We’ve got enough on our plate already. We have to go with the facts.”

“It’d make sense,” Lisabella ventures. “They were always close with the prince. When was the last report from the Outlands?”

“Go, you two,” Mya says with a little more urgency. “Quickly.”

With a gesture to me, Rian leads the way through the door Mya gestured to. He closes it behind us and whispers a spell for light. It glints off of rows and rows of weapons that hang on the walls of an otherwise empty room. The training square. I’ve never been allowed in here.

“Take what you need,” Rian says with a hushed tone.

“What’s with the orange and red?” I ask him as I walk along the racks. There are lots of different knives and sheathes available. I take five of them. Wish I had my bandolier, but the straps and belts they have work well enough.

“They’re Redemption’s colors. That’s right, you’re fairly new to Cerion,” he explains as he helps me into a shoulder harness that holds three knives. “They were our rival guild for many years. Favorites of the prince. They betrayed the throne the year Azi became a squire. They worked with Viala before…”

“Before she became Ki,” I whisper.

“Mm,” Rian says. “They were officially disbanded after that, and most of them were banished to the Outlands. Forgotten, or so we thought.”

“The Outlands?” I ask as I tuck a sheath into my boot.

“They’re part of Cerion, but separated by mountains. It’s a harsh land, and difficult to survive. The only way in is a keep heavily guarded by His Majesty’s forces. The rest of the borders are natural. Cliffs and sea, and mountains too high to climb.”

“So they betrayed the king, and he sent them off to live together instead of executing them?” I shake my head.

“His Majesty tries to be merciful when he can, but I think his leniency with them is what made it so easy for the courts to convince him to do otherwise with Eron in the end.” He looks me over. “Ready?” he asks. I nod.

“From your description, it sounds as though the keep was breached again,” Rian whispers as he slips into the Half-Realm and nods to me to do the same. I close my eyes and let the cobwebs brush my face.

“Lead the way, Tib,” he says, “but be careful.”

“How can you be sure it’s the same keep?” I whisper as we make our way through the darkness of the streets. “And why haven’t there been any reports of a breach? They seemed like they had been there for a while.”

“It doesn’t take long for Sorcerers to make themselves at home,” Rian whispers. “And it’s easy enough to forge communications, especially if Necromancy is involved.”

We make our way safely hidden in the Half-realm. After a while, Rian pushes his thoughts to the wand.

“
So, Aster, what’s your purpose? And why all the secrecy?
” he asks.

“
Communication, mostly
,” the wand replies.

“
So I can talk to Kaso Viro through you?
” Rian asks.

“
Not precisely.
”

“
What, then?
”

“
I know what needs to be done, and I can give you guidance. You and only you. And Tib, I guess, apparently. He can hear us, you know. He’s an odd boy.
”

Rian glances at me as we creep past a small troop of city guard that marches past. He takes his hand out of his pocket, which breaks his connection with the talking wand, thankfully.

“That could get annoying fast,” he whispers to me with a grin. “A sentient wand.”

“Yeah. There’s Maisie’s,” I point at the house I know to be hers. There’s no light in the windows. No candles burning. Rian and I exchange worried looks. We creep up to the wall beside the front door.

“You feel anything?” he asks me.

I press myself to the stone and close my eyes. Listen. Try to feel.

“Someone’s crying inside,” I whisper.

“I hear it, too,” Rian takes my wrist and pulls me deeper into the alley between Maisie’s house and the next. He presses his fingertips to the wall and whispers a spell, and the stone fades just long enough for us to slip through.

Inside is the kitchen. The crying is coming from the front room. Now that we’re inside, I feel something else. It makes my breath catch. Binding. Blood magic.

“Celli’s here,” I whisper. Together, Rian and I creep to the doorway. We see the source of the crying, first. Maisie. She’s lying in a heap on the floor. Next to her is someone else. A man. Her husband. Completely still. Silent. I move closer and see that her hands and feet are bound to his. Anger pulses through me. They left her alive, but her husband wasn’t so lucky.

I move to cut her free, but Rian’s hand on my shoulder stops me.

“She might scream if you free her. Let’s get the boy first,” he whispers and nods toward the stairs.

I hate to leave her, but Rian is right. If we helped her now, it would give us away. Errie is more important.

We climb the staircase together and I feel us nearing Celli. There’s something else, too. Some other magic. A protection. I lead Rian closer to it. To the door that leads to our waiting enemy. Even though she can’t see us, we’re careful. We peek together inside the room. She’s there, leaning against the wall. Her face is covered with a hood, and even though it’s a hot evening, she’s got her cloak wrapped around her like a cocoon. Beside her is a low cradle, swathed in magic. Errie’s there, kneeling with his chin resting on the end of it, watching the door where we stand.

“Odd,” Rian whispers. His eyes scan the room. He starts to go in. That’s when I realize why Celli’s all wrapped up. Her cloak. It hides her, and Rian can’t see.

“She’s there,” I whisper, and point in Celli’s direction. Usually when I’m hidden in the Half-Realm I can’t be heard, but Celli’s eyes snap to the door where we’re standing as soon as I speak.

She pushes off from the wall and slinks nearer. Makes sure she stays covered by the cloak. Her eyes don’t leave the doorway, but they never focus on us. Not even when she’s close enough for me to feel her breath. Without a sound, I draw a knife from my sheath. I glance at Rian. He doesn’t see her. She doesn’t see us. I think about Zeze her arms. About Celli’s deception that got me captured. About the Sorcerer’s name that pulses in her veins. Quenson. I pull back my knife hand and thrust it forward, into her side.

“They’re here!” she screams out and doubles over.

“Tib, no!” Rian hisses. I don’t hear. There’s too much rage. I raise my knife to strike again and he catches my wrist.