The Paladin Caper (21 page)

“Were you waiting to go to the cabinet meeting until you heard more about the fairy-creature disappearances?” Derenky asked politely. “My understanding was that the recent incident at the Sunrise Canyon processing center was a higher priority.”

Pyvic sighed. “I thought that thing tracked
your
calendar.”

“Oh, I added the cabinet meetings to my schedule, just in case you became too busy and wanted me to take your place.”

Pyvic waved and raised his kahva mug. Tomlin and everyone else within earshot took a drink while Derenky rolled his eyes.

As they did, Pyvic looked at the map. The blue thumbtacks, the disappearances, formed a rough circle around the center of the Republic. The red ones were all farther out, between the port cities that Heaven’s Spire passed over in its yearly orbit around the Republic, or out at the edges of the country entirely.

It wasn’t marked on the map, but because he’d been looking at it in his reports, Pyvic knew that Sunrise Canyon and its processing center were located squarely in the middle of the Republic, which meant squarely in the middle of those two rings.

A younger Pyvic would have called it out immediately. Justicar Captain Pyvic cleared his throat, finished his kahva, and said, “I’m off to the cabinet meeting. Table the fairy creatures for now and focus on those deaths on the Imperial border. The archvoyant wants everything nice and friendly when their delegation visits in a few weeks.”

“Understood, Captain.” Derenky pressed his band, and the field of glowing lights flicked off, leaving Tomlin growling and muttering, hands still full of thumbtacks. “And the processing center?”

“I’m on it. We’ll see what Cevirt says.” Pyvic left before anyone could ask anything more.

He thought as he walked, his long legs setting an easy stride a soldier never forgot. Loch’s last report had said that she was headed to the processing center, that Dairy was there and in danger, and that it
could
be tied to the return of the ancients. He hadn’t heard from her since.

Now fairy creatures were fleeing the area, not just around Sunrise Canyon itself but from the whole center of the Republic. They ran far enough, fast enough, that they crossed into other creatures’ territory, and were frantic enough to start fights.

They were panicked. If fairy creatures weren’t so damned reclusive to begin with, it would look like a stampede.

The fairy creatures were the leftover bits of energy from the ancients’ magic. The ancients had left their Hunter golems with orders to track and kill the fairy creatures, so, obviously, there was animosity. The most obvious reason for the fairy creatures to be clearing the area was the return of the ancients.

Pyvic had helped stop agents of the ancients from destroying a good portion of both the Republic and the Empire. If the ancients had returned, he’d figured on fire raining from the sky and giant crystal golems crashing through the cities, leaving blood and destruction in their wake.

His message crystal hummed at his side, and he fished it out, looked around the market square to ensure that nobody was standing too closely, and held it to his ear.

“It’s me,” said the voice of Loch. “We got Dairy back, but we didn’t stop the ancients. They’re not people. They’re magic, as far as we can tell. At the processing center, they had these red crystal bracers they called paladin bands. Each one carries the soul of an ancient. They can take over anyone who wears one. Will let you know when I find out more.”

The crystal beeped as the message ended. Pyvic flicked it with his thumb, deleting the message.

Pyvic was quiet on the rest of his walk to the archvoyant’s palace. A good scout, and he
had
been a good scout during the war, knew when to say little and watch. He watched the guards who checked him with the glamour wards and then waved him through. He watched the archvoyant’s steward, who showed him into Cevirt’s breakfast room.

He took the friendly ribbing at his usual tardiness and grabbed a fresh cup of kahva and an expensive pastry from the tray by the table, and he watched the merchants and bankers and guildsmen who were working on one of Archvoyant Cevirt’s “find the money to do this” projects.

There were too many robes. Sleeves Pyvic could deal with—anything that didn’t billow like the open-chested shirt of a romantic hero in a bad stage play would be tight enough for him to see the outline of the red crystal bands, or even the glow, but most of the important people in the Republic still wore robes, and the voluminous sleeves of a merchant’s robes could hide
anything
.

“All the educational incentives in the world aren’t going to help them if they don’t have enough food on the table,” Lady Heflin said. “I recall being hungry once. I didn’t much care for it, and I can’t say it helped me in my studies either.”

“Point taken.” Pyvic broke a little circular pastry in half. “So how do we get the food to the kids in the cities more cheaply without dropping the price on farming goods and effectively starving all the children in the country?” He reached out and offered her half of the pastry, holding his hand about halfway across the table.

Lady Heflin reached out and took the piece, baring one arm in the process. No band. “Tax breaks for transportation. The guilds buy at the same price, it’s a little less expensive to ship it, and they agree to a lower price bump in the cities as a result.”

“Will the guilds accept that?” Master Trendin asked skeptically. He’d scratched his arms an hour or so ago, and Pyvic had been able to rule him out as well.

“Let me have a word with them,” Lady Heflin said. “I can make it work.”

“What’s this here?” Pyvic asked, pointing at one paper near the bottom of the pile on the table. “I think I missed this when I came in late. The Republic Festival of Excellence?”

Cevirt chuckled. “Consider the name a placeholder for now. I’ll be rolling it out in the next few weeks. We’ve had some generous donations from private parties who want to celebrate the Republic’s achievements, and rather than put such donations to defense spending like we usually do, I thought it was time to give the people something to cheer about.”

“Cevirt’s going to shame the Empire on their visit,” Lady Heflin said, laughing. “He’s having the mine at Sunrise Canyon converted to a festival ground to showcase the magical wonders of the Republic, specifically what the paladins can do with these new bands.”

Pyvic smiled delightedly. “That’s wonderful.”

Cevirt shrugged. “It’s expensive, but a little culture now might stop a lot of blood later.”

“I’ve got reports on my desk about accidents at Sunrise Canyon’s processing center,” Pyvic said. “I was going to discuss them with you when these were—”

Something beeped, and Cevirt pushed back his sleeve to reveal the paladin band on his arm. “Hold that thought, Pyvic. My lunchtime appointment.” He stood and gestured. “Everyone, please greet Misters Skinner, Lively, and Slant.”

The three blond men who came in all wore paladin bands, just like Cevirt. They greeted the room, all perfect teeth and firm handshakes. “Happy to be here, happy to be here,” said Mister Slant, “and I have to say, on behalf of the puppeteers, we are
really
looking forward to covering the Republic Festival of Excellence. Fantastic way to move things forward, and we’ve got some great ideas that we think will really draw people in.”

“We took the liberty of speaking with Justicar Derenky,” Mister Skinner added, “and we’re not too worried about any of these fairy creatures causing trouble at the event. Still, at your request, Archvoyant, I’ll be coordinating security efforts personally.”

“Wonderful,” Cevirt said, nodding to Pyvic. “One less thing for the justicars to worry about.”

Pyvic smiled. “I’m always happy for a little help. I’m still a little concerned about what happened at Sunrise Canyon, however, from a technical standpoint.”

“I’m coordinating with the
Lapitemperum
,” Mister Lively said, matching Pyvic’s smile, “and I can assure you that we are absolutely on top of the situation. This should be smooth sailing for everyone.”

Loch asked Dairy for a good room to relax and talk in, and Dairy took them to a spacious room with a
suf-gesuf
table, a long bar, and a lot of low couches and elevated stools placed around high tables.

Kail passed Loch her customary glass of red wine as she pulled up a stool by the bar, and she looked at it dubiously. “I thought you couldn’t get a good red in the Elflands.”

“Didn’t say it was good, Captain.” He poured Desidora a white, then turned to Dairy. “What do you take these days, kid?”

“Milk is still fine, Mister Kail.” Dairy smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“We’ll find out who did this,” Kail added, and after a moment, passed Dairy a tall glass.

“Thank you.” Dairy held the glass but didn’t sip. “He’s not dead. I would know if he were dead.”

“You’re right,” Desidora said, taking a graceful sip of her wine and reclining on one of the low couches as though posing for a picture. “We believe we understand how the attack happened, and while we don’t know who it was, we know that the attack didn’t immediately kill him. There’s every reason to believe that he’s still alive.”

“Then we get him back,” Dairy said. He was pacing, leaving little splashes of milk on the carpet behind him as the glass sloshed in his hands. “We get him back and set him free, and he’s all right.” Desidora took his hand as he passed her, and he stopped, lowered his head, and shut his eyes. “I would know if he were dead.”

“Sadly, the rest of the Elflands lacks faith in your feelings,” came a voice from the hallway, and Loch turned to see Irrethelathlialann come in. His face was pale, the crystals in his cheeks a little duller than usual. “The Dragon protected the Elflands. With him gone, there will be chaos.”

“I thought you had an army,” Kail said. “Was the Dragon like your archvoyant or your emperor or—”

“No,” said Dairy. He put his glass down and started to pace again. “He didn’t rule the elves. Elves don’t want to be ruled, Mister Kail. They were slaves, and when they get near the crystals, something in their heads makes them almost slaves again. They hate that more than anything.”

“Imagine an army where no one can give orders,” Irrethelathlialann said quietly. “Imagine a warship where the captain has to phrase everything as a suggestion. We are not a military force. We never could be. The Dragon gave guidance we respected without ever asking to rule us, and protected us when we lacked the ability to protect ourselves. Now he is dead.”

“I do not like it when you say that, Mister Irrethelathlialann,” Dairy said with slow deliberation, “and I do not think you are right.”

“You’re not an elf, boy. Just tell me not to say that, and be done.” Irrethelathlialann shook his head. “With him
gone
, at least, the Elflands will withdraw. We cannot fight the ancients, not when the very presence of the ancients enslaves us. We will use magic to hide ourselves away and hope that the ancients consider us too much trouble to hunt down. The fairy creatures will do much the same.”

“Well, thanks, Ethel, that was very uplifting.” Kail held out a wineglass. “You are clearly handling this planning session without the benefit of alcohol. Only Icy and the kid and
maybe
Ululenia can handle that kind of stress.”

Irrethelathlialann snatched the wineglass and took an angry drink. “I will see what other news I can gather. The Dragon had sources. Many remain useful.” He stalked off, glass in hand.

“Where
is
Ululenia, anyway?” Tern asked, stirring the liquid in her cocktail glass with a small decorative sword.

“Here! Hello!” Ululenia dashed into the room, her ash-blond hair askew and her sandals held in one hand. “Sorry I’m late! As the mother bear wakes from her winter slumber—”

“Uh-huh.” Kail raised a glass her way. “Dress is on backward.”

“It is not.” Ululenia looked down at the clingy white gown she wore, then back up at Kail, and then blushed and took the glass. “It was
not
.”

“How does that work?” Dairy asked. “I mean, you’re a unicorn, and you change shapes. Isn’t the dress part of you?”

Ululenia fixed him with a sultry stare. “Any time you want to find out, you let me know.” Dairy smiled and shook his head. The smile still didn’t reach his eyes.

“The ancients,” Loch said, waving for silence. “We know where they came from. We know that hoop Desidora saw is the gateway that lets them in. How do we take it down?”

“Death magic did nothing,” Desidora said, glaring at the memory as her hair darkened slightly.

“We’re looking through the Dragon’s library,” Hessler said, “and his organization is actually incredibly intuitive, which is unexpected both generally for a private library and specifically for a fairy creature, as their minds don’t—” Tern elbowed him. “We haven’t found anything yet, though.”

“Would killing me stop them?” Dairy asked.

“No,” Loch said without pausing.

“They used me to open the gate,” he insisted. “I was the key to bringing them back. The prophecy was all for them. That’s even why Hunter Mirrkir wanted me dead back when he found out what I was on Heaven’s Spire.”