Forging Divinity (6 page)

For a time, their footsteps were the only noticeable sound, until they came near enough to the banquet hall to hear the sounds of supper. Several of the nobles who lived within the palace walls indulged in the late night meal, but Lydia had never had the stomach for anything past dinner. She rarely even ate breakfast.
Taelien is probably starving,
she realized with a pang of guilt.
There’s no sense in risking a stop right now, but I’ll need to find him something to eat later.

She could see a steady line of servants making their way to and from the banquet hall as they approached, as well as the two guards posted at the doors. She nodded to the guards as she approached and they returned her gesture with a simple salute, bringing their right hands across their chest to their left shoulder. No further communication was required.

The pair passed the banquet hall without further incident, turning left to make their way toward the entrance to the main hall. A patrolling pair of soldiers passed them, engrossed in conversation. Lydia ignored them and they responded in kind.

She found herself holding her breath as they made their way through the final hall toward the palace’s entrance. Three of the door guards sat on the carpeted floor next to the closed door playing a dice game, while one other leaned over them, looking bored. Lydia mentally chastised them for their lack of discipline, but she knew that comings and goings at this hour were rare.

“Good evening,” Lydia addressed them as she approached. The guards immediately straightened their posture, looking up at her. One of the sitting guards scrambled to his feet, but the others didn’t make the effort.

“Evening, court sorceress,” the guard who had stood up said. “How can we help ye?”

“Istavan and I are heading out for the evening. Can you unlock the door?” she said, indicating the massive double doors with a gesture.

“Course, ma’am.” The guard replied, moving over to the door. “Up, boys. Help me out here.”

The door was barred by an iron-framed wooden beam, designed to prevent it from being opened from the outside. Taelien was eyeing the beam with a contemplative expression, which Lydia judged to be a sign that he was analyzing if he could manipulate the metal around from outside the door. The door itself was equally heavy and several inches thick. During the Xixian rule, the palace had been designed for a siege. Now, most of the defenses had been long abandoned, but the heavy palace door had been maintained.

The guards struggled for a few moments to lift the beam, setting it aside, and shoved against the heavy doors. Lydia felt the night air wash over her skin as the door opened. “Thank you,” she said, stepping past the guards and into the city. Taelien followed closely behind.

Lydia took hasty steps across the cobblestone road out of the palace, even as the guards struggled to shut the doors behind the pair.

“Impressive,” Taelien said. “There were fewer complications than I expected.”

The sorceress clenched her hands shut. “We’re not done yet. We still need to find you a safe place to stay.”

“Any inn should suffice, wouldn’t it?” Taelien replied.

Lydia shook her head, still walking swiftly. They passed between twin lines of flowers that lined the palace road and beneath the stone archway that led into the Noble’s District.

Her original plan was to take him to the Miner’s District, one of the poorer parts of the city. As the night chill washed across her skin, that plan grew less appealing by the minute. She also reminded herself that while the poorer parts of the city would have fewer guards, their robes of office would also stand out much more. “Nothing close by. Guards will start sweeping the city as soon as they discover your absence. And, once Istavan has been found, your disguise will no longer be usable.”

“Could we find a tailor, maybe?” Taelien inquired, his footsteps echoing just behind her. She couldn’t tell from his tone if he was being sarcastic.

“Not at this late of an hour. Perhaps I should have carried an additional change of clothing for each of us, but carrying that much baggage would have stood out.” Lydia led the way silently for a time, considering other destinations. A brothel would still be taking customers at this hour, and would more than likely be willing to sell them some other clothing. Unfortunately, she didn’t know of any brothels nearby, the parts of town more likely to have brothels would be less than safe at this hour. She didn’t find it likely that anyone would try to rob a pair of court sorcerers, but she had heard stranger stories, and she didn’t need any more trouble.

As she considered where to find a high quality inn on the edge of the Noble’s District that would be discreet enough to serve their purposes, Lydia heard her footsteps fall into a gradual rhythm along with Taelien’s.

That was when she noticed the additional rhythm of a third set of footsteps behind them, near-perfectly matching their own.

Lydia spun, drawing her hand across the air. “Dominion of Knowledge, illuminate the hidden!”

A flash of green light momentarily silhouetted a young man trailing a few feet behind them, unarmed and dressed in a simple tunic and pants. A look of shock crossed his features as he flailed his hands and stumbled backward, disappearing near-instantly thereafter, but not before Taelien had closed the distance between the two and grasped the man’s shirt.

Lydia drew her sword as Taelien pulled the invisible man forward. As Lydia approached, she saw Taelien’s other arm reach upward and grab at the invisible figure at neck level.

“Stop! Wait!” came a choking voice from the nothingness. Taelien shoved forward and Lydia heard the other figure collide hard against the cobblestones.

A foolish move
, Lydia considered.
Taelien should have kept him pinned.
Even as Lydia chastised the former prisoner in her mind, however, Taelien advanced on the invisible figure and knelt, opening his hands and bringing them down until they apparently connected with something.

“You should start talking,” Taelien said in his Istavan voice. Lydia was momentarily startled, having forgotten that Taelien was still supposed to be playing that role. “I prefer my prisoners alive. My companion, on the other hand...”

He wants me to play the antagonist? Fine, I can do that.
Lydia approached, leveling her sword near where Taelien had made contact with the invisible figure. She couldn’t make out where the invisible figure was lying – his spell must have been potent, to keep him invisible even after he had been seen and assaulted. She could have revealed him again with another spell, but she decided to wait. Taelien seemed to be physically overpowering the man without difficulty, and every spell had a cost. “We don’t talk to assassins, Istavan. We eliminate them.”

“I’m not an assassin! Wait!”

The man appeared abruptly, holding up his hands in a warding gesture.

Taelien’s hands were encircling the smaller man’s wrists. How Taelien had managed to find the invisible man’s arms was a mystery, but she reassessed her earlier idea that he had been reckless. Apparently, once he had detected their pursuer, Taelien had some way of tracking the man.

“Talk,” Taelien repeated, maintaining his ominous tone.

“I know you’re not Istavan,” the man said. Lydia raised her sword, causing the man’s eyes to widen in horror. “No, no, stop. I’m here to help. Please!”

“Help?” Lydia asked, examining the fallen man. He was olive skinned, with short brown hair and a couple days of weak stubble. His glasses were thick enough to speak of some wealth, but his clothes were simple village fare, his tunic and pants a common brown in tone. There was a belt pouch on his right hip, but no sign of weapons.

“I saw you escaping – I was going to help you. I know a place where you’ll be safe,” the fallen man explained. “Please, I’m on your side.”

My side. How do you even know what my – oh, you’re on Taelien’s side. That makes sense.
“Do you know him?” Lydia asked Taelien, intentionally omitting his name.

“No,” Taelien replied. To his credit, he maintained his Istavan voice. While the newcomer appeared to know that the sorcerer was an imposter, any confirmation would have been unwise. “Who sent you?”

Saved me that question
, she considered.

“I, uh,” the man said nervously, struggling weakly against Taelien’s grip, “I should tell you my employer under more controlled circumstances.”

“Up,” Taelien said, standing, and wrenching the other man to his feet in the process.

“I’m not sure this is wise,” Lydia offered, leveling her sword at the newcomer. “There are good odds he’s leading us into a trap.”

“I know,” Taelien said, letting go of the other man. “The sooner I walk into this particular trap, the sooner I can eliminate whoever set it.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes.
That sounded insane. It could just be extreme confidence, but insanity is more probable.

“It’s not a trap,” the now-visible newcomer said. “Just a place where other people won’t overhear us so easily. The name is Jonan, by the way. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”

Chapter III – Definitely not a Trap

Jonan rubbed at his sore wrists as he took the first steps into his borrowed home.
That man has hands like iron manacles
, the scholar considered.
Best to feed him a few relevant lies before they end up around my neck.

The house was large by Jonan’s standards, but somehow he had managed to clutter the place almost immediately upon moving in. He stepped between a pair of tables near the entrance, attempting to put a bit of distance between himself and his would-be allies without looking too conspicuous about it.

“Stay within reach,” the woman in the sorceress robes instructed him. “If you have assassins in one of the other rooms waiting for us, I want to have time to execute you before they’re on us.”

So much for that
, Jonan considered with a grimace. “No assassins, I assure you.” But he slowed his steps regardless, gesturing broadly within the building. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. There’s food in the cabinet over there,” he said, pointing to a cupboard near the opposite end of a distant room. “Feel free to help yourselves.”

“While I’m grateful for your hospitality,” the brutally strong man said to him, “I’d really rather know who you are.”

Jonan sighed dramatically. “Have a seat, then.” He found his way to the kitchen table, covered with bits of metal, panes of glass, and tools, and pulled a pair of chairs for his guests. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting multiple guests. I would have made more room.”

The other man seized one of the two seats that Jonan had offered, pulled it back a bit, and sat. The sorceress continued to stand, watching him closely. Jonan nervously turned away from her gaze, finally sitting in the second chair himself and turning to face the swordsman.

“Tell us who you work for,” the woman demanded, leaning toward him just slightly.

Jonan turned his head back toward her, playing through possible answers in his head, finishing the debate that had raged in his mind since they had discovered him. “I am but a humble scholar, and when I happened to-“

“That’s a bunch of resh. Start over,” the red-haired woman demanded, tapping the hilt of her sword meaningfully.

Now that his first lie had been so easily dispelled, Jonan began the next. “No need for that sword, I assure you. I’m a friend. I believe I work for the same people that you do, but if you have the same instructions that I do, you would know that we have orders not to confirm that or interact with one another.”

The sorceress’ hand drifted away from her sword.

Interesting
, Jonan thought.

“Interesting,” the woman replied. “And almost plausible. But, given that we have already come into contact, it’s too late for that sort of behavior. We should share what resources we have available, if you are, in fact, working for the same people that I am.”

“Would either of you tell me who you’re talking about?” the masked man asked them. He was still using an outrageously deep voice. Jonan found it adorably pretentious.

“No,” the sorceress replied.

“Not really,” Jonan said, shaking his head.

When Jonan had been given his assignment, he had been told that there was a single other person affiliated with his organization in the city. His instructions had been to communicate with this contact by trading information through anonymous notes, but he had explicit orders not to determine his contact’s identity.

For that reason, he had started looking for his contact’s identity immediately, but thus far he hadn’t had any luck. When he had discovered that the bearer of the Sae’kes had been imprisoned, he had immediately reported that information to his contact. The sorceress’ actions implied that she might be acting on the information he had provided. He considered asking her questions based on the notes he had sent to his contact, but he decided that might be playing his hand too quickly.

Jonan turned back to the masked man. “Sorry, friend, but you haven’t even told me your real name.”

The masked man scoffed. “Any names we give one another are pointless until a level of trust is established.”

Jonan put a hand over his chest, trying to look wounded by the point. “You do not trust me? I have guided you to the safety of my home, at great personal risk.”

“We seem to be at an impasse.” The woman leaned back against one of the tables behind her, pushing an unfinished mirror on top of it aside to make herself comfortable. “Fine. I’m not in the mood for riddles and games. I am Lydia, and I am a court sorcerer for Queen Regent Tylan. This man,” she said, gesturing to Taelien, “Is Volar, my apprentice.”

“Let me stop you there,” Jonan said, turning to sit side-ways in his chair and address Lydia. “I already know that this man is a prisoner, and that you’re helping him escape. I was planning to break him out myself, but you got to him first.”

Lydia pushed her glasses up further on her nose. “That is quite an accusation you’ve made.”

“Again, there’s no need for these pretenses. I will hide you until morning, at which point you can safely escape the city.” He gestured to the next room, which contained the staircase, though it was currently obscured from his sight by a half-closed door. “I regret that I only purchased male clothing, as I did not anticipate your involvement.”

Lydia glanced at her masked companion, and then back to Jonan. “How did you discover us?”

“I am a practitioner of sight sorcery,” Jonan admitted. “As I’m certain you noted from my attempt to follow you invisibly. I have been monitoring the comings and goings at the palace as best I could. When I saw the bearer of the sacred blade captured, I could not stand idly by and allow him to be harmed.”

Jonan glanced back to the masked figure, but the other man just stared at him, his expression unreadable with the mask. It was somewhat disconcerting.

“All right,” Lydia said. “Stand up. We’re going to take a look around this place and make sure you don’t have any friends listening in on us. When I’m satisfied we’re alone, we’ll talk further.”

The ensuing tour of the house took a few tense minutes. The house was particularly large by Jonan’s standards – he never could have afforded such a home on his own. The entrance chamber was cluttered with tables where he worked on various glasswork projects, such as mirrors, windows, and spectacles. The kitchen was directly across from the entrance, the majority of its brown wooden cabinets empty, but a few of them containing useful food or other more obscure supplies.

On the right side of the main room, beyond a practical wall of junk, Jonan led them to the reading room. A single bookshelf held a dozen books on subjects ranging from local history to esoteric sorcerous theory. They represented the bulk of his personal collection, and the most valuable of all of his possessions.

Beyond the reading room was his own bedroom, which he showed them hurriedly, explaining that he was embarrassed by the mess. Lydia maintained her usual dubious expression, but he didn’t think she detected any of the irregularities that the room hid.

Opposite the reading room was a stairway leading to the upper floor. The two upstairs doors led to the “private room” – which contained a bath and chamber pot – and the guest bedroom.

The sorceress paused in each room to mutter a brief incantation, which Jonan assumed was a knowledge sorcery spell similar to the one she had used earlier. Afterward, Lydia still appeared nervous, but satisfied that there was no one else to eavesdrop.

Nothing on her garb to identify any affiliations aside from her current cover
, Jonan considered.
She’s cautious enough to be one of ours, though.

With the tour concluded, each of them returned to the front room, taking seats. In the absence of a third chair, Lydia sat on the table across from the two men, still looking like she might draw her blade and murder either or both of them at any moment.

“All right. If we’re satisfied, I believe it’s time for some honest discussion,” Jonan offered, gesturing magnanimously with both hands.

The masked man glanced at Lydia one last time, to which she responded with a curt nod. With that, he pulled down his hood and removed his mask, revealing a surprisingly young man with dark hair and bright eyes.

“You can call me Taelien,” the unmasked youth said in a new voice, still somewhat deep, but much smoother in tone. “I came here to meet someone. My arrest was, so far as I can tell, a simple misunderstanding.”

Jonan laughed for just a moment before shaking his head to stop himself. “Sorry, sorry. A misunderstanding. Ah, my friend, you are far too kind to the people of this city.”

“What do you mean?” Taelien asked, furrowing his brow and leaning forward on his knees. Without the mask and the intimidating voice, he seemed a completely different person, almost child-like.

Is he just playing another character now?
Jonan wondered, but it was too soon to tell.

“Jonan is right,” Lydia began before Jonan had a chance to explain. “Following the Tae’os Pantheon is illegal, but it’s such a minor crime that it’s almost never talked about. Typically, they’re just given a small fine and sent on their way. You carried a sacred relic into the city. The court sorcerers believed this was an intentional act of aggression from Velthryn, a provocation meant to trigger an action on Orlyn’s part. I’m not sure I disagree.”

Taelien shook his head. “I had no idea about the law. I’m not a spy, nor would I be interested in starting any sort of conflict.”

“No, but what about whoever sent you?” Jonan asked.

The dark-haired man reeled back as if he had been struck. “My parents? They would have no motive for that. I don’t think they’ve ever even been here.”

“That would explain their lack of knowledge of the law,” Lydia said. “But your average civilian doesn’t just carry around a weapon like that.”

Taelien nodded. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I will be more careful about disguising the weapon in the future.”

Jonan quirked an eyebrow. “You’re missing the point, friend. Even if your parents didn’t have any idea about the law, it sounds as if someone set you up. Perhaps whoever you were sent to meet in the city.”

“Erik Tarren?” Taelien mused aloud.

“The scholar,” Jonan said incredulously.

Lydia glanced at Jonan, offering him a wry grin. “That’s what I said, too.”

Ah, she can be amused. Progress.

“Okay, so your parents told you to come to the city to meet a famous scholar, and I assume gave you the most conspicuous object on the continent to bring along. Did they happen to give a reason why?” Jonan asked.

“To learn about my heritage,” Taelien explained, shaking his head. “My parents, well, they are not my real parents. They just took me in when I was a child, you see. They were given instructions to give me the sword when I came of age. I’ve been practicing with it for several years now, and my parents felt I was ready to come to try to discover where I came from.”

“You can use the sword?” Lydia recoiled, eyes widening slightly.

“Only in the loosest sense of the word ‘use’,” Taelien replied, sounding oddly embarrassed.

“Wait, who gave your parents these instructions?” Jonan asked.

“Erik Tarren did. He’s the one who left me and the sword with them. He said that I should come find him when I’m old enough.”

“This is quickly turning into an interrogation,” Lydia pointed out. “Taelien, you don’t have to be so quick to volunteer information. In fact, I’d advise against it.”

Jonan gave Lydia a pouty expression for spoiling his fun.

“It’s fine,” Taelien said. “I have nothing to hide. I’m sure you two are both thinking about using me – and this information – to your political advantage. I don’t really care. Telling you what I know is probably the fastest way to reach my own goals.”

“That makes things much easier, then.” Jonan flipped his dour expression into a grin. “So. Does your family have any enemies?”

Taelien shook his head. “None that I am aware of, and certainly none in this city. I suspect you’re overthinking this. My parents, not knowing the law, send me to find information. I, not knowing the law, blunder my way into an arrest. The sorcerers see a conspiracy, but I see little more than a coincidence.”

“Perhaps,” Jonan replied dubiously. “There is only one way to find out with any certainty, however.”

“Find Erik Tarren?” Lydia mused, folding her arms. “That’s doubtful, at best. The man stopped publishing books more than fifteen years ago. In all likelihood, that’s because he’s dead. He was over a hundred years old. Even a powerful sorcerer can only extend his life for so long.”

“You’re awfully quick to discard our only source of information,” Jonan wagged a finger at Lydia for emphasis.

“First, we haven’t even established that we’re actually on the same side. And second, searching for a presumably dead man while hiding a fugitive who is carrying one of the most valuable relics in the world is somewhat absurd, don’t you think?” Lydia countered, staring back at Jonan.

“Sounds like fun to me,” Jonan said, looking over at Taelien. “What do you think?”