The Arcanist (31 page)

“Simon or more likely Vesar has struck against both magic and faith. So the temples and shrines have been emptied. The priests sent running. The sparks have been imprisoned until they could no longer be held. And at the same time he sets his guard against the powers. Those that he knows he could not defeat, but which he cannot allow to strike at him.”

“It becomes clear that magic, whether of the faithful or the innate, is his greatest threat. He spends exorbitant amounts of gold to defeat it where he can and to protect against it where he can't. Gold that my brother would sooner not spend. Gold that he could use to rebuild the walls of the city. To restart the economy. He has sent much of his army away to man these blockades instead of defending the city and maintaining order in the rest of the realm. Vesar fears neither bankruptcy nor revolution. Not even attack from outsiders. Yet magic is seldom used in war. The temples are not enemies, and the powers have never posed any threat to the realm.”

“And?” Kyriel understood what he was saying but not the point behind it.

“We must learn what it is that Vesar fears so greatly about magic, because that is his vulnerability.”

The handmaiden thought on his words for a bit, her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in concentration. He had to admit that she looked very pretty like that. But still he would have liked an answer. Perhaps she needed to think some more on it. Instead she turned her attention once more to the road and studied the confused soldiers as they lined up and prepared for yet another charge. One thing was certain; they weren't going to give up.

“You know Lord Severin, the more I watch the soldiers, the more satisfied I am with my ward.”

Edouard was too. But in all that she'd said there was one word that stood out for him. 'My'. She was admitting to having crafted the ward. Finally. For the longest time none of the handmaidens had said anything about it, save that it was Tyrel's beneficence. He had to wonder why she'd admitted it now, though it did open up the conversation to further questions. And after all this time and with no answers forthcoming he had many questions.

“So Mara talks to mammoths and you twist thoughts around. Surely there is more to your temple than meets the eye.”

Edouard had to admit to being impressed, even after so many days of watching the false king's soldiers gallop up the hill, wheel about and then gallop straight down again for no obvious reason. He didn't understand it, but then his magic was not of the mind. But he did understand that the handmaidens like any priests and priestesses were only supposed to have minor magics. Healing charms and the like. This was a major casting, enchanted into the land itself, that worked on scores of minds at once, no matter from which direction they came, and which never seemed to fail.

“The Honoured Mother's blessings are wondrous.”

Kyriel smiled knowingly and he knew that behind that serene expression she was laughing at him. She was amused by his ignorance. It was an expression he was slowly coming to get used to. He was also coming to realise that he was never going to get an answer to his questions. Any of them. The handmaidens had secrets and they were keeping them.

“And does she have a wondrous plan too?”

He figured they needed one. After so many days of being trapped in his own home, he was starting to become a little frustrated. The townsfolk had to be frustrated as well. After all, the soldiers had ringed them in as well and from what he could see they limited their movements. Travellers weren't allowed in or out of Breakwater. Farmers weren't able to harvest their crops and take them to market. And even those toiling in the nearby fields were subject to regular harassment. Sure, his home was comfortable enough, and it was nice being safe even when his brother could field an army against him. Still, it would have been nice to have a plan. To have some hope of defeating Simon and getting his life back to normal. To get Breakwater working again.

“Actually yes. And we will be receiving a guest tonight to tell us something of them.”

That caught him by surprise. So much so that he actually straightened up and turned around to see if she was being honest with him and not just teasing him with a jest. Of course the sudden movement tore the skin on his back a little more and he couldn't keep from wincing again.

“Someone's going to try and breach the blockade? That's dangerous.”

And it also wasn't necessary. It had already occurred to him that the handmaidens had some way of speaking over long distances. They kept telling him things they couldn't possibly know. Not if they were locked up here with him. And after all, how else would she even know that a visitor was expected? There hadn't been any mail. Messengers weren't getting through the blockade. So if they could get messages through then why would they need someone to visit them in person?

Of course he was still curious as to how they were doing it. He'd been looking for carrier birds for a day or two, but none had landed on the fort. And it didn't have a roost anyway. Nor for that matter, had any birds been raised in the fort to know to call it home.

Secret messengers were also not an option. Even if someone had somehow snuck through the blockade, the front gate had not been opened in three days. He would have heard it. So they would have had to have climbed over the wall. That was no easy task, especially when the cast iron railings were barbed. Besides, there was a watch kept. They would have been seen.

Flags and signal fires had also occurred to him, but the only place to do either would be from the tower. There was no sign of a fire pit in it, and flags could only be used during the day. He'd been up in the tower regularly for the last couple of days.

That of course left only magic. Perhaps some sort of mental connection through the Mother. And given that someone – Kyriel according to her – had created the ward that sent the soldiers turning away, it was his best guess. But if she could hear Tyrel's voice why did she not hear entire conversations? Why did she need messengers to come? So many riddles. So few answers.

Of course he'd probably been standing there too long, lost in his questions and forgetting that there was an actual world out there. He realised that when Kyriel started discretely coughing his way. And then not so discretely, until he finally noticed her again.

“I'm sorry Kyriel. There is more?”

“Anatha asks for you to report to the kitchen if it's not too much trouble. There are potatoes that need peeling and pots that need scrubbing.”

Despite her carefully composed expression, Edouard knew she was laughing at him, or rather, at the thought of a noble doing dishes. But it wasn't a choice. Even if the ward didn't prevent people from the town wandering up the hill – people like his servants – he could not have let them make the journey. Breakwater wasn't protected from the soldiers, and he could never have let them be seen entering his home. It would have made them targets. So everyone, himself included, had to help out.

He should probably be grateful he hadn't been assigned to cleaning the floors. Though since he couldn't cook the others might have preferred that he was, rather than having anything to do with food. Even peeling potatoes.

“Some people will do anything to see me with my hands in soapy water!”

Chapter Thirty

The throne room was empty again and Simon was glad of it. He had grown sick of the court. Sick of all the problems the people kept bringing before him. All the complaints. And especially sick of the way the various members of the court whispered among themselves when they thought he wasn't looking. But he was looking. And he did see. He saw far more than they realised.

The complaints though were only a symptom. The disease was failure. Incompetence. The things that separated a successful king from a soon to be deposed one.

But the problems kept mounting for him. The city was short on food. Destroying the stores had been such a good way to put pressure on King Byron's rule and distract him, but now it was putting that same pressure on his rule. And with the city locked down, no food supplies were able to enter it. They faced the very real prospect of famine. And that in a farming province in the springtime!

Water supplies to the city were also compromised. Many of the wells had been contaminated following the destruction caused by the mammoths. Water pipes and sewer pipes had been broken. It could be repaired and normally it would be. But most of the city's artisans who dealt with such things had left the city after the attack by the sprigs. They had skills and could find work easily enough elsewhere.

For the same reason the houses and the wall weren't being repaired. He didn't have the artisans he needed and what few he did have, Vesar was stealing to build his accursed temple. It was the agreement they had reached and for the moment he still needed the man so he had to honour the agreement. If nothing else he needed the priest to keep him informed as to what the nobles were plotting. The man had a genius for finding out such things. And of course he needed him to raise his promised armies. But there was a cost to keeping that promise, and his rule was paying for it.

Fire was becoming a problem too. Normally the city could put out their fires quite quickly. But the water mains were smashed and they were forced to rely on wells and buckets. And there were so many naked flames in the city. Candles, oil lamps, braziers. It was a never ending problem.

Worse was the fact that the nobles had somehow learned that he was the one responsible for the attacks on Theria. That he had brought the mammoths and the sprigs to their doors. They couldn't prove it, but they didn't need proof. They knew it. He could see the silent accusations in their eyes. For the moment they didn't bring it before him. They were afraid. But fear could get him only so far. In order to be afraid a man had to also have hope. Something to be afraid of losing. And they were fast running out of hope. And as they ran out of hope so too did he.

Time was running out for all of them.

“You sent for me Your Majesty?”

Simon looked up to see Vesar standing in front of him, when only seconds before he hadn't been there. He hadn't even been in the throne room. And Simon hadn't heard him enter either. He wished the man would stop doing that.

“Yes. Tell me about these armies.”

Over and over he'd asked Vesar about them, knowing that his future depended on them. Simon was paying for the mercenaries out of his own coffers and the royal treasury, but that was gold that could not last forever. Especially when so many of those mercenaries along with the remains of the city guard were now blockading the homes of the three powers and his brother's fort as well. He needed Vesar's promised armies to propel his campaign. Taking the throne of Therion had never been the extent of his dreams. He wanted an empire. And now that things were falling apart he needed it.

Conquest was the one thing that would save him. People didn't depose conquering kings. And conquering kingdoms never ran short of coin or resources. They took what they needed from those they conquered. But he couldn't conquer a barn without an army. He couldn't even defend the city without walls and cannon. And the walls were broken and he doubted there was a single working cannon left. The sprigs had destroyed them all. Maybe that had been a mistake.

“Everything is coming along perfectly Your Majesty. In another month or so we'll be ready to build your army for you.”

He was lying. Simon could hear it in his voice. No matter how well the damned priest thought he could hide his lies behind his veil, he couldn't. And that just left him with the question of why. Why was he lying?

He wasn't scared of failing him. Simon knew that. His threats did little more than annoy the man, and then only briefly. He didn't think Simon could carry them out. Or maybe he simply thought he wouldn't, given that if he did he would be left with nothing.

It wasn't because he disliked war either. The priest was happy to kill. To wade through rivers of blood. And there was no limit to the suffering he was prepared to inflict upon others. But never was anything he did about malice or power or even enjoyment. It was always about achieving his goal. And his goal was to build his damned temple.

That Simon realised was the answer. And once he understood it the bottom abruptly fell out of his world. Vesar had done all he intended to do. All that he had ever intended to do! His temple was being built; nothing else mattered. He didn't care if Simon became an emperor or if he fell. He didn’t care if the city collapsed into ruin or the realm revolted. Nothing mattered to him save that his temple be built. Now that construction was under way he gave not a wit for Simon's dreams.

“Months!” Simon knew it was time to stamp his authority on the man once more. And this time by using the only leverage he had. How had it come to this? How could he have been so blind to the man's intentions? But the how didn't matter. Only that he had been, and that he would be no longer. “No. I need armies. I need walls and buildings repaired. I need the cannon repaired. I need food flowing into the city once more. And I don't need it in months. I need it now!”

“Your Majesty –.”

“Don't! Not another word! I don't want to hear any more excuses. Not today. You will provide me with what I need and until you do all work on your temple stops.”

Simon laid out his demands and for several long heartbeats there was absolute silence in the throne room. Vesar was shocked, as he should be. Then the protests started.

“Your Majesty! We have a deal!”

Finally Simon heard something he wanted to hear in the man. Genuine emotion. Panic. And he knew he had him. For the moment. But he also knew he was playing a dangerous game. Vesar was not the sort of man to allow such a demand to stand. There would be consequences.

“Don't “
Your Majesty
” me anymore. You want your temple built and it will be built. I am not backing out of our agreement. But unless I get what I need your temple will never be finished. You need me as I need you. You need a king because without me, no one will work on your temple. I am paying after all. And I need my armies and my walls and my food because without them I won't remain king much longer. And if that happens your temple building ends.”

“So tomorrow I start taking back the workers to work on the city walls and buildings. And tomorrow you commit yourself to building my army. Is that clear?”

It was, and he watched as Vesar bowed slightly to him and mumbled the words of acceptance reluctantly. He had been cowed again. But Simon knew it wouldn't last. Vesar had only one purpose in life – building his damned temple – and he would not be kept away from it.

Their arrangement had just founded on rocks. At first it had been a simple mutually beneficial arrangement. They worked together and each got what they wanted. But now that would change he knew. They would still work together and the ship would float along for a while yet. But it was sinking. From now on Simon knew, and Vesar surely knew too, each would be busy undercutting the other where it suited them. Looking to score an advantage at each other's expense.

And sooner or later it would end. Each of them knew that. In time one of them would decide that the other was no longer necessary. And when that happened it would be bloody. Now that the gauntlet had been thrown down Vesar would begin to question Simon's value to him. And he would start making his own plans.

Maybe he'd already started making them. Simon realised that as he watched his advisor walk away, after politely promising to do everything he demanded. But as he did so Simon noticed the royal guards' eyes following the black priest. And he knew they were looking to the miserable worm for instructions.

It was then that Simon felt a sudden chill as he suddenly realised they weren't really royal guards after all. They were Vesar's guards! Loyal to the black priest and only on loan to the king.

Treachery! Simon started grinding his teeth in fury. The treasonous little worm! Vesar had been playing the traitor's game from the start. Preparing for the day when Simon no longer did what he wanted. And he wanted his temple. So under the guise of protecting him from his enemies Vesar had been providing Simon with guards who were actually his own. And sooner or later Simon guessed they would act, deposing him and taking their orders directly from the new king, Vesar. Now it looked like being sooner.

That was going to be a problem. In fact it already was one. Simon understood that as he watched his advisor leaving the room through the doors the guards' held for him. The royal guards were probably the largest surviving military force in the city. In the realm. And he suddenly realised that he didn't know how many of them were Vesar's and how many were his. But judging from the veils he guessed most of them belonged to the black priest. That was a serious threat to his rule. Especially when most of the city guards he could have called on were out blockading the various lands of the powers.

Simon realised he was going to have to bring some of them home. Actually a lot of them. Five hundred at least. And quickly, before Vesar acted. After all, the powers were no threat to him. They cared nothing for mortal matters. It was Vesar who demanded the blockades. Blockades that would have been completely useless had any of those powers decided to cross them. But he would send some of Vesar's royal guards out to replace them. All of them in time. After all, as Vesar was the one who wanted the blockades it seemed only fair that it should be his men posted at them. Simon knew he was going to have to start immediately. Before Vesar decided to take matters into his own hands. Before he decided he had the numbers to hold the city by himself.

Maybe he already did have the numbers.

“Send me the scribe!” Simon bellowed it at the royal guards standing watch at the door, knowing that for the moment they would still do as he commanded. And knowing also that they had no idea of the orders he was about to have drafted and dispatched.

Simon knew that he was going to have to be discrete about it. He would have to hide the truth of his actions from his advisor. So today he'd only order one patrol home from each blockade. Four patrols, maybe a hundred and twenty men. But they would be here within a day and little by little they'd begin replacing Vesar's traitorous royal guards who he would be sending to replace them on the blockades. Then tomorrow another four patrols, and so forth. In a week he'd be far more secure in his rule.

Vesar would guess what he was doing of course. But not for a few days at least, and by then it would be too late to do anything about it. And in any case it was still too soon for Vesar to move on him. He would have to endure it.

And in time he decided, there would be another price to be paid by Vesar for his treachery. A price that would cost him dearly. The loss of his temple. That huge building site right beside his castle was going to go. But not in a way that the priest would know was due to him. It had to be something that Vesar would assume was done by his enemies. He had plenty of those.

But maybe he would tell him what he'd done before the end Simon thought  – just before he pulled the lever that let the foul worm drop to his death at the end of a noose.