The Black Star (Book 3) (51 page)

He fought to stand, but his feet wouldn't move. The guards pounded up the steps. Tallivand and Minn faced each other, grappling with half-seen forces. Blays' feet were stuck fast, but he was able to twist around to a sitting position. He had held onto both swords during the fall.

The first of the guards was upon him. Smirking, the man reached out as far as he could, driving his sword at Blays' chest. Blays flung himself to the side and twisted out of the way of the incoming blade. Fresh pain tore through his wounded shoulder.

He dropped his left-hand sword and snapped at the man's wrist. This was out of reach, so he snagged the man's cross-guard instead and leaned back with all his weight. If the bodyguard had had a moment to think, he would have simply let go, but the instinct to pull back won out. Already leaning toward him, off balance, the man was unable to resist. He fell forward, plunging straight onto Blays' right-hand sword.

The man was beginning to shriek as a spear darted at Blays. Blays flattened himself, leveraging the impaled guard up. The spear gored the man in the back. Blays rocked forward and pushed him off his sword, tumbling him down the stairs into the legs of the spearman. They fell in a tangle, lodging against the wall. The third guard grabbed the dropped spear and raised it high, its iron point shining in the firelight.

Across the room, both women screamed. Blays' feet yanked free of their unnatural roots. He kicked back from the soldiers, grabbing for his fallen second sword. The spear clunked into the landing and withdrew. Blays followed it in. The man wheeled his spear, but its butt whacked against the wall. Blays smacked it aside with one sword and drove his second into the man's heart. While he was there, he took care of the tripped man, who was still fighting to free himself from his friend's dead weight.

The stairs were now clear; men were hollering across the ground floor, maneuvering around tables, throwing knives and vases at each other. On the landing, Tallivand crumpled to one knee, holding her bleeding hip. Below, Minn lay prone, crawling toward the pocket of safety beneath the landing.

Blays ran toward Tallivand and put the edge of his sword to her throat. "Bad news: I know the nether, too. Not
well
, mind you. But if I see you make the slightest move toward it, you'll see how good I am with a sword."

Her eyes danced between his. She was in her mid-fifties, black hair hanging in two braids. She was dressed in a dark nightgown and she looked very afraid. "Who are you?"

"Mean," Blays said. "Call off your men. No one else needs to die."

She licked her lips, then turned her head to look downstairs, wincing as the motion pressed the sword against her skin.

"Stand down!" she called. Swords clanged below. She snarled. "I said
stand down
!"

The swordplay ceased. A man backed toward the stairs, glancing over his shoulder. "Ma'am?"

"Put down your weapons before this man puts his through my throat."

More guards backed into the firelight. They glanced between each other, then set down their swords. Dennie and Jinsen advanced, accompanied by their troops.

"Are you all right?" Dennie shouted.

"Help Minn!" Blays said. "Cal's in the basement. He's beat up, but he's fine."

Dennie and two guards jogged beneath the landing. Jinsen and the others escorted Tallivand's soldiers away.

"This was about the
Almanack
, wasn't it?" Blays said.

Tallivand nodded carefully. "I'm just an agent. This wasn't my idea."

"Then what, you stumbled into Cal Stotts in the street and he wound up in your pocket?"

"I won't deny what I've done. But the people holding my reins are worth much more than my life."

Blays laughed humorlessly. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Is that so?" A hint of mockery entered her eyes. "Do you place so little value on the head of your king?"

His heart did painful things in his chest. "The king?
Moddegan
sent you?"

"Do I have your interest now?"

"Indeed. Now we're going to sit here until people with the authority to make decisions arrive."

This took a while, but Blays didn't mind the breather. After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes, the others reconvened downstairs. Minn and Cal could move around but weren't in great shape—they'd found Cal some clothes, at least—so Blays walked Tallivand downstairs, still holding his sword to her neck.

"Care to have your brains melted?" he asked them. "She's working for the king."

Dennie put himself nose to nose with her. "Why were you mutilating my son over a
book
?"

"The finger was as far as we intended to go," Tallivand said. "You'll note we made sure to clip it from his off hand."

"Why, you're a model of mercy!"

"Given what my lord was willing to do to attain the book? I was saintly."

"Answer the question," Blays said.

Tallivand's face contorted in thought. She gave a short sigh through her nose. "He wanted the book because he thought it would lead him to Cellen."

This last bit was gibberish to Blays. Dennie appeared equally nonplussed. Cal looked like he wanted a meal and a bath. But Minn had the expression of someone who's been stuck in the stomach with a spear.

"He thinks it's back?" she said.

"There are signs," Tallivand said. "Strong signs."

"Strong enough to kill for?" Minn grimaced. "Then again,
any
sign of Cellen would tempt him."

Tallivand nodded, then smiled oddly. "You fight well, lady. Who trained you?"

Minn smiled back. "No one you'd know."

"Right," Blays said. "What is happening right now?"

"Let's be clear: we're bargaining for your life," Minn said to Tallivand, entirely ignoring Blays. "What else can you toss on the table?"

She laughed. "What could be better than Cellen?"

"How is he so sure? And how does he intend to find it?"

"The lights in the Woduns. The creatures we've been finding in the Ripping Sea. Other things I'm not privy to. As to how he means to get it, I can't say. It was my job to bring him the
Almanack
—at all costs. If I return with nothing, I'll be killed on the spot."

"It would be finely deserved," Dennie said.

"I think I believe her," Blays said.

"Surely you don't think we should let her go."

"I've interrogated a lot of assholes over the years. True believers never give up what you want to hear. She doesn't give two shits about Moddegan. She just wants to survive."

Minn laughed. "You think that makes her
more
trustworthy?"

"I wouldn't take her out for drinks," Blays said. "But I know Moddegan well enough to believe she can never cross his sight again."

"She hurt Cal," Dennie said. "Took his finger."

"It's your call. And good luck with it. While you're doing that, would someone care to do me the favor of explaining what the hell Cellen is?"

Minn and Tallivand exchanged looks. Tallivand spoke first. "We believe it is a source of pure nether. One that, in able hands, can be put to almost any use."

"What's your take?" he asked Minn.

"That's what I've been taught." She frowned at Tallivand. "But it's been more than a millennium since it last manifested."

Tallivand could only shrug.

Dennie paced around her. "If you left here tonight, where would you go?"

"Mallon," she said without hesitation. "I might try Narashtovik—they have no love for Moddegan and are hungry for talent—but I'd fear that's not nearly far enough for me to run."

Dennie turned to his son. "I'd give you the choice, but that would shift the responsibility to your shoulders. How do you feel?"

"I don't care," Cal said. "I just want to go home."

"Leave now," Dennie declared to Tallivand. "Go alone. And never let me see you in Gallador or Gask again."

She eyed him, expecting some trick, then bowed her head. "You won't regret it."

"I do already."

She showed no sign of offense. She limped over to a rack, slung a long coat over her shoulders, and took a lantern from the wall. Geared for travel, she trudged toward the front room. Broken glass tinkled under her steps. Her lantern faded into the night.

"There's nothing more to keep us here," Dennie said. "Anyway, the longer we stick around, the more likely our fleet is to attack the wrong house!"

A couple of his men chuckled. Some of them bore bandaged cuts, but none had suffered serious injury. Minn had a gouge to the left side of her ribs and another on her left triceps, but appeared to have it under control. Blays lent her a hand outside while Dennie saw to Cal and Jinsen oversaw the troops. They hiked to the path on the ridge and followed it to the pier where they'd tied up the sloop. Once they were on the water, they flashed their lanterns at the lurking cutter and both boats sailed for home. Dennie found Blays in the bow cleaning his swords.

"If I gauge you right, you'd be insulted if I offered you money for your help," Dennie said. "But I owe you more than I own."

"You've misjudged me completely," Blays said. "I'm happy to take your money. This time, I might even need it."

"Going on a trip?"

"I think so. Don't suppose you know an all-night stable in town?"

"Afraid not." Dennie scratched his goatee. "But I can have a horse for you first thing in the morning."

Blays figured he could use the sleep anyway. The boats docked at Dennie's pier and Blays helped unload the few supplies they'd brought for the raid. Dennie saw Cal inside. Once Blays finished, he stood on the dock watching the moon on the water.

"Uncle Dennie made it sound like you're leaving," Minn said.

He gave her the eye. "After a night like tonight, it's not prudent to startle the guy with the swords."

"Is he right?"

"I'm afraid my travels have been extended." Blays slicked back his grimy hair. "It's time for me to pay homage to the king."

25

There ensued an incredulous silence.

"He's going to attack
Narashtovik
?" Dante laughed. "Using what, the Eagle King and his faithful legions? He could never get an army across the Woduns."

"Unless," Somburr said.

Dante sobered abruptly. "He couldn't."

"Oh no," Lew said. "Is that why he wants Cellen?"

"It fits," Somburr said. "If it's as powerful as everyone believes, the mountains won't be an obstacle."

Dante flapped his hands. "What could he possibly want with Narashtovik?"

"The letters are opaque as to his motivations."

"For that matter, how did you manage to crack them? I thought you'd barely made any progress."

"I hadn't," Somburr said. "So when Kasee took her people to their ill-fated ambush, I broke into their house and stole
their
translations."

"What do they say about Narashtovik?"

"They refer to the target as the 'City of Nine Fragments.' Archaic reference to the city's war-torn history."

"Narashtovik is built on a plain," Dante said. "That could be why the Minister is drilling his troops in the lowlands. Even so, why us?"

"There's more." Somburr passed him a decoded letter. "This details their involvement in Ellan. It consists of two parts. First, procuring materiel. Second, hiring teams of merchants—specifically, those with experience dealing with Tev, Kirkit, and beyond." He raised his eyebrows significantly, receiving a chorus of blank looks in reply. "People, in other words, with great skill at transporting goods over long and treacherous routes."

Cee gazed westward. "Sounds like we ought to head on back to Corl and pluck his head like a lorbell."

"We're only a few days out from Morrive," Dante said. "Horace thought it was important we go there. I say we take a look around, then return to Corl."

"First we go to a haunted ruins, then we hightail it for a land we're banished from. Sounds like a wonderful plan."

"The ruins are haunted?" Lew said.

"Of course there's ghosts in ruins," Cee said. "You should be happy if there's no mummies."

They continued down the path. Continuing to Morrive felt like an odd thing to do, considering they'd just learned a powerful man who was possibly crazy intended to deploy an omnipotent artifact to destroy their homeland for reasons that were not just obscure, but completely unknown. Part of Dante was in denial, and the part that wasn't in denial was in shock. The moment he came out of it, he intended to loon Nak and explain as best he could. But he needed to wait until he could explain at all.

Conveying what they'd learned to Nak took three days. Not because Dante procrastinated; he looned Nak as soon as he'd eaten dinner that night. Rather, because the loons could only be used for an hour per day, and if they exceeded that limit, they'd break. Dante had barely begun to fill Nak in when Nak, realizing the gravity of the situation, ran off to find Olivander. Dante then had to explain things all over again, and since only Nak could hear him, Nak had to repeat it to Olivander, who often had questions and commentary of his own. Working through everything Dante had seen, heard, and learned took two and a half full sessions.

"And you find all this...credible?" Olivander asked once he'd concluded.

"I know it sounds like lunacy," Dante said. "But all the pieces fit."

"What type of forces can he muster?"

"The layout of Spiren makes it extremely hard to estimate. When I look at a city, I can guess how many people live there. A forest of titanic trees? No idea."

"We're still recovering from the last war," Olivander said. "Do you have any idea what timeframe he's operating on?"

"If his plans rely on Cellen, it all depends on when it manifests. Even if he were to obtain it tomorrow, and used it to part a path through the mountains, I can't imagine he'd move before spring."

"He couldn't be planning logistics unless he knows what to expect in Narashtovik. That means he had or has agents here. Any way you can get Somburr back home? Use a trebuchet, if necessary."

"He's the one who figured this out," Dante said. "And this can all be averted if I get to Cellen first."