Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) (26 page)

Marblenose moved swiftly, never
completely losing contact with the ground. As they approached the cold houses, Calder dismounted in case he’d misjudged the range of their magical negation. He let Marblenose dissipate and walked the rest of the way. He’d never once visited the crazy old outlander, but from listening to Bayan and Eward, he knew which house the man lived in. That, and the grass in front of its door was mashed flat. He stood outside, gathering his thoughts.
Can I really do this? Nae, that’s not the way. Can I not do it, knowing what such cowardice will mean for my hexmates, my empire?

His hand reached out for the door handle.

“Who’s there, aye?” came Treinfhir’s voice. Calder’s hand flinched.

“Y
ou need to come with me, Tuathi.” Calder marveled at the sudden roughness in his voice. Where had that come from? What sort of secret person within had lain in wait for this moment?

Treinfhir opened the door and looked into his eyes. Calder
could see in the old man’s eyes that Treinfhir sensed why he’d come.

Treinfhir’s
mouth flattened to a straight line. “What will he think?”

“He doesna need to know. Some truths need to be secret.” Calder made a grab for
Treinfhir’s skinny arm.

The outlander jerked back. “Can your hex live with such a lie, Dunfarroghan?”

“It’s not a lie. You’re a murderer, a killer.”

“I canna deny this
, but all my murdering was done in protest, with my family being held as ransom. All my dead lie in the Kheerzaal.”

“Not for lack of trying. You tried to kill Cormaac and Taban. Both Dunfarroghan lads. You scared
Breckan into the crying house, cracked her mind in twain. Your family was never in danger, were they? You were never a prisoner or a weapon. You’re just a madman, and Bayan let you out of your rightful prison! You’ve lied to him all along, making him trust you, tainting him with your twisted magic, but I see what you are. What you really are. You’re a monster!”

Treinfhir’s
voice went hard and gravelly. “I am not the monster in your life, Dunfarroghan. But I see that there is one, aye, and close by.”

Calder glanced around, half-expecting to see someone lurking
behind him. But no one was nearby. Treinfhir tried to bolt past him, but Calder tackled him to the winter-yellowed grass amid the cold houses. Expecting resistance, he sprawled across the older man’s body, but Treinfhir had gone limp.

Calder remained there,
pinning him, for a long moment, assuming Treinfhir was faking. Finally, with a shout and a jerk, he flipped the man over. A large bluish knob was forming on the skinny man’s forehead. Calder’s questing hand found the rounded rock hidden beneath the grasses which had rendered the Tuathi unconscious.

Calder needed several moments to regain his breath and enough energy to stand. His shoulders slumped as he realized he’d have to drag or carry Treinfhir past the cold houses’ perimeter alone before he could benefit from any avatar assistance.
He stood shakily, balancing Treinfhir’s thin weight across his shoulders. Three steps later, a black shape dived through his field of view, squawking.

“Kah, not now.”

The bird did not relent. It swooped and chattered in increasing agitation as Calder left the vicinity of the cold houses. The hexbird seemed determined to interfere as Calder finally let Treinfhir slump back to the ground, then summoned Marblenose once more. As Marblenose rose from the earth again, Kah spiraled away, screeching. The bubble-cluster avatar scooped Calder and Treinfhir into its arms, then Calder Idled him away from the cold houses. The last thing he needed was to leave evidence behind.

On the far side of the next cliff face
, a sheer, dangerous vertical shaft plunged into the ground. Calder had always avoided it on jogs around the cliff tops because it smelled of a predator’s den, laden with rotting carcasses.
How fitting
. Calder had no difficulty imagining Treinfhir falling down, down into its blackness and never being heard from again. But as he rounded the steep hill that edged the sharp cliff ahead and felt the chill wind on his face, he also heard Treinfhir moan.

Marblenose stopped at the edge of the sheer chasm and put Treinfhir down
, then Calder.

Treinfhir staggered to gain his balance and held a hand to his wounded head.
“You doona have to do this. You can just let me leave. I’ll make me own way.”

“You won’t leave. You’ll come back to kill me. And my friends. You and I both know there’s only one way this ends, aye?”

“You’re mistaken, lad.”

“No,
you
were mistaken when you thought I’d just sit by and let a treacherous Tuathi bend my best friend’s ear and twist his heart. Your evil ends here.” Before he could change his mind, Calder shoved Treinfhir hard in the chest. His motion let Marblenose dissipate. In the moment when Treinfhir’s feet left the ground, shirt flapping in the wind of his incipient plummet, a piercing cry flashed past Calder’s head. Kah vanished into the shaft’s depths. The bird’s and the man’s calls echoed, then fell silent.

Panting in fear,
Calder backed away, preparing a Flame spell. If Treinfhir tried to use Kah to save himself with anima magic, he might fly out on enormous black wings at any moment. Time passed… and passed. No sound emanated from the chasm’s mouth.

Finally letting his senses back
down from full alert, Calder took a few shaky breaths and rested against the sun-warmed cliff face behind him. He licked his lips, worried that Kah might have been injured or killed. The thought tugged at his mind, and he shied away from the guilt it created. He hadn’t harmed Kah himself, nor intended harm to the hexbird.

On the other hand, Kah was a clever creature. He could lead
Calder’s hexmates to the chasm and show them what had happened, not unlike his assistance in Kiwani’s rescue. Perhaps it was best the hexbird was gone, too.

With guilty relief, Calder turned and left the lip of the chasm.
“I’m not sorry. I’m not.”

Over the past few days, Tala had
found herself with all sorts of free time to stalk the halls of the vast Temple library, since she wasn’t spending her evenings with Doc Theo anymore. She’d done basic searches in the upper levels, mostly seeking references or images that matched the sketch Bayan had given her. The few encyclopedic tomes she’d found that contained examples of similar book cover styles only confirmed that the book Bayan sought was very, very old. It had to be down in the Periorion.

Just before the lunch hour,
Tala used her crystal resonance trick again to record Alton Corda singing his way past the Periorion’s ward. Late in the night, Tala portaled down to the Periorion’s sturdy door and let herself in with the ward note.

She closed the door behind her and sung a small light. It revealed a strange sight. The Periorion room wasn’t large, but it was built almost like a forest path, with small shelved sections protruding off one side or the other. The walls were made of wood, sung into curves and hues that evoked various forests from around the empire. Each section seemed to contain its own category of books and scrolls. Tala unfolded Bayan’s sketch and search
ed for similar covers, hoping to find the right section quickly.

As the night wore on, she found a few sections that held similar, ancient covers, but no exact matches. After eliminating the last book in the last section, Tala leaned against a wooden wall and stretched the muscles in her upper back.
How disappointing to have nothing good to tell Bayan!

She let her head rest against the wood for a while.
She’d been eager to work with Bayan on his book search. It kept her mind off of her anger at Doc Theo. It kept her busy, so she didn’t dwell all day on what it felt like to have someone she’d trusted betray her.

Tala’s eyes brimmed with tears. She jerked her head to the side, trying to dislodge her sad, repetitive thoughts
, and there at the very end of the winding wooden hallway, she saw a blank stone doorway.

Drawn to it, Tala looked through the arch of stone. The far side was too black, completely unlit by the small light hover
ing around her head. She gingerly reached one finger toward the void, then stopped herself. She didn’t want to trigger an alarm.

She
looked behind her, paranoid, but saw no one else in the Periorion. She quietly sang the same song she’d used to open the First Singer’s office and used the ear-piercingly high ward note as well. The black doorway remained inscrutable, but Tala could feel the back-pressure from the ward spell protecting it. She needed to learn its ward note to get inside, and there was no telling how difficult that little maneuver would be.

Still,
she was thrilled with her discovery. The warded doorway was more than she’d thought she’d find. Was Bayan’s book on the other side? Or was the First Singer up to no good in there, as Doc Theo had insisted? Or both?

She had something to tell Bayan, at least. She didn’t think she was courageous enough to spy on
the First Singer a second time to figure out the keynote for this ward without Doc Theo. She wasn’t ready to face him yet, but it disturbed her that she was abandoning her own father to a lightless oubliette and the whims of a woman who apparently hated him. Would Bayan want to rescue Doc Theo? Probably so. Another pang of guilt pierced Tala’s chest.

Tala
slipped between a pair of curving wooden bookshelves in the nearest miniature book section. She shucked the woolen covers from her crystals and, after one final check to ensure her privacy, portaled to the Academy.

~~~

Bayan nearly cracked his skull against the hot stove when he heard his name hissed from behind. He quit sorting his remaining firewood and spun around. Tala crouched on a patterned wooden floor on the far side of a small, bright oval in the air, looking nervous.

He gave her a look.
“You have got to stop sneaking up on me.”

“I’m so sorry. I found something in the
Periorion.” She kept her voice low.

Bayan’s heartbeat quickened.
“The book?”

“No, not yet. But I might know where it’s hidden. There’s
a very old doorway down here. It’s warded, though, and I can’t get inside.”

Something nagged at Bayan’s mind, but he couldn’t pull the thought into his consciousness
over the growling of his stomach. “Is there any chance you can find me something to eat? I’ve been locked up for a while, and my magic can’t make food—”

“Not you, too!” Tala exclaimed, then clapped her hands over her mouth
in embarrassment.

Bayan shrugged. “It’s not as much of an inconvenience as they’d like me to believe. But until I know more about what’s going on here, escaping could be very bad for my friends.”

Tala’s expression firmed. “I’ll get you some food, but it’ll take me a few minutes. Can I come through to your side with it? The smells might give me away here.”

Bayan agreed, then waited
alone with his increasingly growly stomach. “Bhattara,” he complained to his belly. “You were quiet just now, but one hint of a meal and you’re whining at me worse than Kah.”

Tala’s portal re
opened, and she handed him a plate heaping with herbed cauliflower florets, sweet potato mash, and a fat slice of beef. Her other hand offered him a small loaf of bread. He took them both from her and backed up as she stepped through with her brass crystal holders.

“It would be pretty inconvenient if you left those behind, wouldn’t it?” Bayan gestur
ed at her crystals with his bread loaf.

Tala’s lips quirked to one side.
“I did that once. Luckily, it was just across the Temple from where I’d left them. Go ahead and eat. You’re drooling in your food.”

Bayan managed a quick laugh before his
bread invaded his mouth. He sat at the tiny table and ate until his stomach hurt, listening all the while to Tala give more details about the Periorion and its warded doorway.

Hunger finally sated,
Bayan leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes. “Thank you. Marvelous. Not as good as home, but still edible.”

Tala gasped in dismay. “Oh! I could have sneaked you food from anywhere! I’m just so used to fetching
Doc Theo some food from the Temple kitchens… I’m sorry. I really should have thought—”

“It’s all right. I’ve gotten used to imperial food, even if it’s still too salty and
—”

“Brown,” Tala finished.

“Exactly.” Bayan grinned.

Tala asked what Bayan had done to get locked up, and Bayan began telling her the long story, starting with Kiwani’s kidnapping. He’d just explained the part where he and Eward had also dropped out of M
aster witten Oost’s class when a lost memory surfaced, and his mind focused on a sudden possibility.

“The song!” he shouted, interrupting himself.
“Ay, Bhattara, how could I forget the song?”

Tala leaned forward eagerly.
“What song?”

“I heard a song
when the sint showed me the old book. Just a short tune—why didn’t I put this together earlier? Too hungry, I guess. Could the song have something to do with the ward?”

Tala’s mouth hung open
in excitement. “If the Periorion’s secret doorway is that important, then yes. A ward would be infinitely harder to pass if its keynote were a whole tune. Can you remember it?”

Bayan squeezed his eyes shut. The song hadn’t seemed very memorable
when he’d first heard it, but it came readily to mind as he envisioned the sint’s forest and the image of the book. He clumsily hummed it for her a few times. She sang it back to him for confirmation. Despite his excitement about the song’s possible importance, he smiled at the pure clarity of her voice. “That’s it. That’s the song.”

“Let’s go try it!”

Bayan took a last, enormous bite of beef as she sang a new portal. When its bright border sprang into existence, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and followed Tala through. He found himself in a small, cool room next to fine wooden shelves laden with ancient texts. The singer sang a small light into existence over their heads. Its glow revealed subtle texturing in the wood of the shelves and floor.

“This way,” Tala whispered
. She led him around the clustered shelves. Bayan took half a dozen steps down a winding hallway with small rooms along its sides, then stopped in front of an ancient, arched doorway. The pure blackness within it felt unnatural, and Bayan shuddered.

Tala
licked her lips and glanced behind her. She let out a slow breath, then sang the wardsong, followed by the trilling notes of Sint Koos’s tune. To Bayan’s delight, the darkness faded, revealing a small, square room beyond. Its angled table tops supported ancient, peeling books, and more rested on wide shelves. Tala gave him a huge grin of childish delight and stepped through. Bayan began to follow, but a moment later, she stumbled back into him, frantic to propel herself out of the room.

Bayan caught her as she coughed and gasped. “What’s wrong?”

“No air. No air,” Tala wheezed. “No air at all in there. I must’ve done something wrong.”

Bayan looked over her shoulder at the innocuous-looking room.
The Academy librarian had yelled at him once for not drying his hands on the raincloths by the front door, saying that damp air was the worst thing in the world for books. Maybe if there was no air at all, the old books would last even longer than if they just had dry air. Or Tala could be right; she could have triggered a trap. Or both.

“I can make air for us.” Bayan stepped away from her, and, recalling
Treinfhir’s comments about unfocused magic, went straight to summoning Shear. The reflective plane of air coalesced before him, though in a noticeably weaker state than before. Bayan drew Tala close, then Idled the avatar to enclose them. After a shared glance and deep breaths, they sidled through the doorway sideways.

Shear’s
presence persisted. Bayan exhaled in relief, then breathed in the pure air of his avatar.

Tala’s eyes were wide with wonder. “Singers can’t create air like this. We can only move it
or change it.”

“Let’s find that book,” Bayan said.
“And by us, I mean you. I can’t move my arms from this circle. It’s what keeps my avatar—and our air—in existence.”

“I understand. You take care of the air, and I’ll take care of the light and the searching.” Tala brightened the room. It only contained a few dozen books, and
she quickly spotted the one that matched the sketch Bayan had made. It lay on an angled table top near a far corner. She rushed over in excitement, and Bayan was right behind her. He gazed down on the faded cover. It was exactly as the sint had shown it to him.

Tala
carefully lifted the front cover. The pages crackled like brittle rice stalks at the slightest movement and gave off an ancient odor of dry stone. A brief list of contents told him little about what the book contained.
Ability Amplification and Uses Thereof; Vicinity Block and Semi-permanent Application Thereof; Safety Concerns Addressed by Vicinity Block; Muting and Considerations on Elemental Vehicles; The Powder Arts,
and several more obscure selections awaited his perusal.

“Do any of these sections look helpful?” Tala asked.

“The wording is so old-fashioned, I can’t even guess what they’re talking about,” he muttered. “Just page through. I’ll stop you if something seems important.”

With infinite care, Tala pag
ed through the ancient book. Words and diagrams in faded ink flooded Bayan’s vision. His mind swam with excitement at his discovery as well as fear that he wouldn’t recognize anything in such an ancient duelism text. What if, after so long, he missed the message the sint had intended for him to find?

A separate thought fluttered around the back of his mind, separate from his personal concerns. What in Bhattara’s name did an ancient book have to do with Master witten Oost,
Doc Theo, the First Singer, or any of the strange things that had happened at the Academy?

After a score of pages, a
drawing of a form training classroom caught his eye. “Style never changes, does it?” He indicated the sketch with his elbow. “Our classroom looks exactly like this today.”

“What are the little holes there, along the ceiling beam?”

Bayan bent closer and stilled Shear’s faint breezes. Faint text was scrawled above the image, with indicator lines drawn between it and the holes. “’Vicinity block spacing minimums must be rigidly adhered to,’” he read.

“What’s that
mean?”

Bayan shook his head in bafflement.
“No idea.” His eyes skimmed across the faded ink, searching for familiar words or sketches. “Is that a potioneer’s mortar and pestle? There in the lower corner. What does that have to do with anything?” A few pages on, next to a drawing of a necklace strung with rounded beads, Bayan struggled with the ancient ink words, mouthing them slowly. “Binding—no, bonding multiple aspects increm—increases mastery.”