Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) (39 page)

“I bit a spellcaster in half,” Mordon said, mumbling his words just a little.

Shocked, I stared at him. “What?”

Mordon snored in reply and left me wondering if I dared to ask him again when he was awake.

The details of returning to Selestiani didn't matter. There was a little paperwork, a lot of solemn stares and half-whispered comments, and one vivid memory of Anna spewing milk on the new constable while he patted her back. But for the most part it was Valerin sticking close to my elbow, an annoyance rather than a source of charm. It was getting to the point I couldn't wait to be rid of him. He seemed to be of the opinion that I desperately needed rescuing from Mordon the Ice-Heart. By evening we were all installed once again in the cloud city of Selestiani. I'd been kept apart from my coven who were in the guest quarters while Valerin seated me deep in the heart of the local residences.

The necessity of additional helpers was all that kept my coven nearby, and Mordon was the most questioned helper. I discovered all this by eavesdropping when I went to the pub to eat and drink. Valerin and I took a place outside, so I could watch the sun set over a rare steak and a mug of brew. Mordon had been outside first. He sat in the corner farthest from the pub, too still and quiet to be calm, the harsh pre-dusk light striking red glints from his hair. When he noticed me, he lifted a finger in silent greetings. Otherwise he made no attempt to begin a conversation with me nor with anyone else. An uneasy feeling started in my gut and I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

Without consulting me, Valerin abruptly stood and went to Mordon. I didn't like the looming body language. I sat upright, prepared to push back my chair, but I wasn't fast enough.

“How dare you come here?” Valerin demanded

Mordon fell to the side as Valerin took a swing. While Valerin was off-balance from the missed punch, Mordon hooked his opponent's leg. Mordon's hand came up. Valerin twisted, trying to block it. Instead this ended with Valerin on the floor with Mordon's hand encircling his throat. Only those in the nearest tables even realized what had happened by the time I was scowling.

“Meadows, that will do,” I said from my chair. The set of Mordon's shoulders very clearly stated that he was in the mood for a longer brawl than the one his opponent had provided. I couldn't see Valerin but I refused to get up to know his reaction.

Everyone outside watched in anticipation. The last thing I wanted to do was turn this into a public spectacle, which is what would happen if I asked what the fight had been about.

Mordon gathered his feet under him and stepped away from Valerin. Usually Mordon would extend a hand to help his fellow up, but not this time. Nor did Mordon meet my gaze, instead examining everything else and slowly uncoiling a fist. Valerin rubbed his throat and bolted to his feet as soon as he knew Mordon was gone. I thought for a second that Valerin would launch at Mordon and renew the fist fight, but he didn't.

“Go for a hard flight, Meadows, and report back to me when you're done,” I said.

“Milady,” Mordon said and gave a stiff bow.

Valerin gaped, wide-eyed, as Mordon abruptly left the area and disappeared from sight. I approached Valerin, amazed at the unrivaled anger I felt searing through my body. Valerin said, “I couldn't believe that—”

I slapped him.

He jerked, startled.

“I did not ask for your report,” I said. “I used an open hand because that display didn't deserve anything to be proud of. I'm ashamed for all of you.”

Valerin touched his cheek, surprised by the gesture rather than physically hurt, and his brows pinched together in an angry furrow. “He would have left you to Cole,” Valerin said, “he has no privilege to be within your sight.”

From the way I was being observed by the others in the immediate area, this was the commonly upheld belief. If Valerin hadn't started it, one of the others likely would have. Valerin's position as being in care of my safety had exacerbated matters. But it was the wrong reaction to Mordon. Now, instead of incriminating Valerin or accepting his actions, I had to find a way to contest the very notion behind his motivation.

“Mordon and I have previously established our plans should things go awry. He was following in accordance with those plans. Does his obedience mean that he has no privilege to be within my sight?”

Valerin dropped his gaze to his fist, arguing with himself silently. His lips were even twitching. Then he lifted his eyes to mine and said, “Intelligent disobedience is preferred to ignorant obedience.”

“With respect to your intelligence, Mordon knows me—and Gregor Cole—better than you do, and if people had been willing to understand his perspective, we would now have both the infant and Julius Septimus. Nevertheless, I know how to get him back. Spread the word that we'll be gathering to discuss it. I definitely want Mordon and the other members of my coven present at the talk.”

And then I put on my invisibility ring, and I left without another word.

* * *

I didn't go far, just to the place with the bench overlooking the landscape below. Once there, I let myself tremble and feel positively shaken. I didn't know how long I'd been there before Mordon sniffed me out and draped an arm over my shoulders.

“I have news,” Mordon said.

***

The Selestiani gathered once Valerin released the word. Each of them knew about the dinnertime confrontation and what had been said, and they were willing to listen to what I had to say—however, that was tainted by my favoritism of the coven over the settlement. I examined the people staring at me and thought about the right words, wondering how I would say it. Suicide wasn't the right term, but how much did they value Julius?

“Julius Septimus has been captured,” I said. “Everyone here knows this is true. Before I continue with the details, I need you to think about how far your are willing to go to obtain his return.” There wasn't a response, but no one went away, so I continued, “Julius Septimus is being held in solitary confinement in the Merlyn's Market Council building. It is the first stages towards pursuing a death sentence. They claim he plotted assassination against Gregor Cole.”

A mutter spread through the people. Some of them scowled, angry at the very notion of killing their leader. Others shook their head. A few stared at me as if this was my fault, and still others were dazed at the news, not believing that it was possible they were understanding this correctly. It took me rapping on the benches to quiet them down.

“There are a few ways we could go about this which would be better in the long term, but it would be a protracted ordeal. Given the eagerness of the court in following Cole's every whim, I'm afraid it would take years to address a gross miscarriage of justice. I say it like that, because under the recent legislation, Septimus has no recourse to standard procedure. His justice will be expedited and it will not yield a happy result for him or us. At worst the judges will examine the evidence and declare him guilty. At best he will duel with his accused. He won't be allowed to win. And if Septimus dies which is what Cole wants, it's what he wanted from Josephina, it will go very badly for everyone else as well as us. Which is why I propose we break into the Council building and extract Septimus.”

“What recent legislation?” someone asked, skeptical of attacking the market. It'd sour relations for the obvious reasons.

“It sounds ridiculous,” I said. “That's because it is very paranoid. But the Council has something called a Black-Out Rank Bill. I wouldn't even know of its existence except for my association with Leif and Lilly. The Black-Out Rank Bill is not on public record, it's kept secret to maintain the confidentiality of the government. To keep spies and the sort from knowing delicate information. Part of the Official Body Wellfare's bill is the expedited and harsh prosecution of groups and individuals who pose a threat to the people who make the laws. It is not necessary to make these proceedings public record, either. Which makes you wonder how often events such as this really do happen. Not that it matters. What matters is that legal recourse and anything which abides by the law is out. Also out is anything which will take longer than eighteen hours to execute, because that is how long Julius Septimus has to live.”

There was stunned, perfect silence after this announcement.

Someone began to laugh. “They can't kill him. Death is temporary for a phoenix!”

“I believe that is why Josephina was captured. Far more preferable to watch a natural death-rebirth cycle than to risk upsetting it by forcibly inducing it.”

Mordon wasn't convinced of my theory, and that made me less eager to share it to a wider audience—not that it would do anything but confuse the settlement and take away time from what we needed to be doing. Getting Julius back was paramount, both for the settlement and in case my theory was correct.

“What? Why would anyone want to watch that?”

“The why doesn't matter for now. Maybe they're just sick. Maybe too curious.” The why was worryingly the cause for my theory, and it wasn't something I wanted to explain. That it might be linked with unlocking another Unwritten. “We need Julius Septimus back. Any debate on the subject? Good. Now, I don't know all the details of the building, but Constable Barnes and Lilly Frey do. Tell me, do you think that Julius Septimus will contest his accuser in a duel?”

Some people said yes, some people said no. Before they could begin arguing about it, I continued, “In that case we will have to have recourse for both options. It might be best for us to have two routes to use just in case. Valerin has spent time with the Blackwings who are very good at appearing and disappearing suddenly, so he will be in charge of the coming and going. Use people as you will, Valerin. We're going to either have to sneak in and sneak out, which would be a possibility if we had time to bribe a bunch of people or scope out the rest, or make it seem like a mass-scale attack is happening to draw them away from Julius. Once their defenses around him are weakened, we will take him back by force. Consider that if we take the second option, the Blackwings will be present and some of the powerful ruling class members of the Market as well. It won't be pretty.”

I insisted they discuss it amongst themselves, asking Barnes to check his pocket watch for when fifteen minutes went by. In the end there wasn't agreement, just noise, and it took Valerin to quiet them again.

“From what I'm hearing, we need to have a big distraction,” Valerin said. “And three teams to infiltrate the building. One will watch the desired exit. The other two will find Julius and release him. I have two teams ready, the third will include people from your coven.”

It wasn't what I'd had in mind, but if I had their cooperation, it was worth making a concession or two. I nodded to Barnes. “Constable, your opinion?”

“Could work,” he said. “Which is as good as it is going to get. Most anything else won't work. The Council building is not designed nor intended to be a military presence, but they are prepared for individuals and pairs to cause trouble from time to time. A full-scale assault would drain their resources and claim their entire focus. It will only work once and it won't work at all once the spellcasters from the other areas of the Market begin to come to their aid. You'll need to be fast in getting Septimus out.”

Barnes' comment prompted debate. I eased back into my seat and listened as the conversation ebbed and flowed, Valerin's sharp comments keeping the talk on-topic. Complications were brought up and discussed, a solution settled upon. There were a lot of faults within the plan, any number of ways that it could go wrong, and some of these were mentioned. It didn't matter. Time and resources were against us, and we knew how the Council was trained to respond to a particular situation due to the constable and two judges in our ranks. It all needed to work by throwing our opponents into disorder, and to keep the attack narrowed in on the Council building itself without deliberately or accidentally harming the rest of the market.

“We have a plan,” Valerin said. “It is agreed upon. We won't wait for the last minute to save Julius, but we need a few hours to gather materials and execute two dry runs. I want you to work with our resident illusionists. There's no time to practice extensively with them, but do enough to organize your talents. We will need to appear like there are a lot of us, or to disguise movement and conceal identities.”

“I have a few ideas for that,” I said. “Introduce me to the others.”