Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (15 page)

Just then, the door opened, and Haziel stormed in, two
blue sashed mages on his heels. The king’s eyes looked as hard as diamonds, and
he stalked over to Jez’s bed and glared as if trying to drive Jez into bed with
the weight of his stare alone. A second later, the binders cut Jez off from his
power.

“Enough of your delays. You will tell me everything,
or I’ll lock you up for the rest of your days.”

Jez looked to Osmund, and the other
boy nodded. He took a step toward the king, and the binding on Jez’s power
weakened as they focused on Osmund who had started blabbering something about
how they were both innocent. Jez wasn’t listening. He knew the binding to get
rid of a possession and he splayed his fingers. He stood up on shaky legs, and
the healer ran to his side, but he waved her off. The king turned to him, and
Jez pretended to stumble. He threw his hand forward, touching the king’s head.
He brought the hand down to Haziel’s heart, forcing power through the barrier
the binders had set and channeling it through his fingers.

The king scowled and shoved Jez back. Jez nearly
tripped but managed to keep on his feet. The binding had been complete, and he
hadn’t felt any resistance. Almost instantly, he felt the binder’s barrier
slide back into place. Jez fell back onto the bed. Osmund moved toward him, but
Jez shook his head and the other boy remained where he was.

“Well, boy?” the king said. “You don’t honestly expect
me to believe your monster of a bodyguard, do you? Did Lina escape through your
incompetence or through your treason?”

“Have you seen her?” Jez asked. “Did she come to you?”

“If she had come to me, she’d be in the dungeon next
to her father. Now, answer the question.”

Jez sighed. “Your Majesty, she escaped because she’s
very good. She’s one of the best illusionists I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s only a child.”

“She’s older than I am,” Jez said.

The king snorted. “Is that your only excuse?”

“I don’t know what else to say. She’s practically a
master. I have no idea what she’s capable of.”

“How convenient for you that one of the few people who
could confirm that is missing. Would you care to tell me what you did to Mage
Villia?”

“There were demons attacking your keep,” Osmund broke
in. “Half the people living here ran away. Why are you so surprised she’s no
different?”

“Muzzle your beast, Baron,” the king said, “or I will
have him thrown in the kennel with the rest of the dogs.”

Osmund’s eyes flashed orange. His sword flickered into
existence only to vanish a second later as Osmund made a visible effort to calm
down. The king never even looked at him, though the healer’s eyes went wide.
Jez searched his mind for how to ward against the indirect influence of demons,
but it was a subtler part of binding, and while Luntayary might know how it was
done, that knowledge was locked away, and he hadn’t yet studied it at the
Academy. The only thing he could think to do was tell the truth.

“Lina got to you,” he said quietly, his eyes darting
around to make sure none of the healers were close enough to hear. “She must’ve
summoned a demon who could influence the mind. She’s controlling you or at
least influencing you.”

The king balled his fist, and for a moment, Jez
thought he would hit him, but Haziel took a deep breath. “First, you release
the traitor. Then, you accuse me of working with her. You go too far. Guards,
take him to the dungeon.”

“Sire,” the healer said as she stood between Jez and
the king, “he’s not strong enough to be moved.”

The king’s face went scarlet. “You do not command me
in my own keep, little girl. The guards will take him.”

The girl paled and backed up several steps, her head
bobbing. She moved so fast, she almost tripped over her own feet. “Yes, of
course, Your Majesty. Forgive me.”

The guards came up to Jez and lifted him by the
shoulders. Pain rushed down his arms, and he clenched his teeth to stop from
crying out. They practically dragged him across the room before found his
balance. Osmund walked in front of him with a sword at his back. Both had a
blue sashed mage walking next to them, and the barrier separating Jez from his
power felt stronger than ever. The king remained in the healing chambers as the
guards led them away.

“This isn’t really necessary,” Osmund said as they led
him across another corner.

“Sir, I’m afraid it is. The king has ordered you
confined.”

“I know that,” Osmund said, his voice perfectly calm.
“I only mean that if I wanted to escape,” he let the words hang for a second,
and Jez heard the unasked question, “you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

A guard with a thick black beard let out a bark of laughter.
Jez stopped, and the man escorting him gave him a harsh shove that almost
pushed him off his feet. He stumbled into Osmund. Jez’s voice was barely above
a whisper.

“Don’t hurt them.”

The bearded guard heard him and laughed. “What do you
expect him to do?”

The next second, the guard was knocked of his feet as
wings emerged from Osmund’s back. The others cried out, but before they could
draw their weapons, Ziary stood in their midst. The light from his wings was
almost blinding. A blast of wind rushed out from the scion, though it parted
around Jez. Everyone else was pushed to the ground. Some grunted and tried to
get up, but the wind was too strong. The ward between Jez and his magic wavered
as the binder tried to split his power between Jez and Osmund, no doubt hoping
the extra energy would help bind Ziary.

Jez reached for his power. The ward bent and the
mage’s eyes widened, but Ziary swung his flaming sword at the man. The ward
vanished entirely, and Jez cut off the two binders from their power. Ziary’s
sword stopped an inch from the man’s face. He went pale, and abruptly, he
fainted. Ziary offered Jez a hand, and Jez took it. There was a rush of wind
that lifted them off the ground, and they flew down the hall, turning several
corners faster than Jez could keep track. Before long, they stopped in the
middle of a hall Jez didn’t recognize.

“What do we do now?” Ziary asked.

“The guards will be looking for us,” Jez said. “We
can’t stay in the keep.”

“All the ways in and out will be guarded. Even if we did
get out of the keep, we’d never get out of the grounds.”

Jez glanced from a nearby window to Osmund. “We don’t
really have to go through the grounds. The wall is only so high, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

Jez smiled. “How are your wings?”

Jez cried out, half in fear, half in sheer excitement
as Ziary jumped toward the window. Strong hands gripped him, and for a moment,
the ground rushed up toward them. They’d been on the third floor, and it only
took a couple of heartbeats for them to reach the ground. They were mere inches
away when Ziary’s wings caught the wind. Jez laughed as an air current carried
them higher than the height of the keep itself.

The grounds stretched out before them. The main
building was made of pale gray stone that would seem to be gold in the light of
the rising sun. It was bigger even than Jez’s manor in Randak. A series of
smaller buildings were scattered about the grounds-storage areas and stables.
The walls surrounding the grounds were thick enough that three men could walk atop
them side by side. Towers rose at regular intervals giving a good view of city
beyond and providing an ideal place from which to launch arrows or other
missiles. Rumar Keep had been built for war. People milled about, but no one
looked up. Three men on armored horses rode out of a building that Jez assumed
was a stable. They thundered toward the entrance to the grounds shouting for
the drawbridge to be lowered.

“They’re looking for us,” Jez cried out.

“I can’t keep this up,” Ziary said. “My wing is still
hurt.”

“Can you get us over the wall?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Ziary spread his wings in a glide, but he leaned
heavily to the right. Jez struggled to look up. Ziary’s right wing was still
crooked from his injury, and he was having trouble keeping aloft. A gust of
wind caught them, and their course straightened as they lost altitude. They
were heading east, directly into the rising sun. The wall rushed toward them
and one of the guards patrolling it pointed. Jez cried out as they flew over
the wall. They were too low. His foot slammed into the stone sending a jolt of
pain up his leg. The impact threw off Ziary’s balance, and they tumbled in the
air. The world spun, and Jez could barely make out the building they were
heading toward. There was a scream, though Jez couldn’t tell if it had come
from him or from Ziary. The scion tried to flap his good wing, but it did no
good. Ziary slammed into the building, and they bounced off onto the ground.
Jez groaned, and Ziary’s form melted away to reveal Osmund. The larger boy
rose, seemingly uninjured, and though it hurt Jez to move, he forced himself to
stand up.

“We need to get out of here. They saw us at the end.”

Osmund nodded and helped Jez walk as they headed into
the streets of the city.

Jez had spent most of his life in the
city of Randak. As the main port of the barony of Korand, it had been a busy
city, filled with people from all over the world. He thought he’d be prepared
for any city, but Rumar was something else entirely.

People crowded the streets so tight it was difficult
to move. More than once, he was jostled aside, though a few apologized to him
when they saw he was injured. They kept an eye out for guards, but they never
saw any. Osmund took him down streets seemingly at random before stopping in
front of a large building with two candles painted on a sign in front. He
pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Like the city, the inn was crowded. Every table was
completely full, and a man played a lute in one corner while another man
juggled colored balls. A fat man, presumably the innkeeper waddled over to them
and looked Jez up and down. He raised an eyebrow. Jez blushed and pulled his
sick robe tight around him.

“Greetings, young master,” the man said. “I run a
clean establishment. We can’t have the sick here.”

“I’m not sick.” Jez pointed at a scrape along his arm
that he’d gotten when Ziary crashed. “I was hurt.”

“Is that so? Well, I don’t want you in my common
room.”

“Do you have a room available?” Osmund asked.

The innkeeper cleared his throat, and his eyes
wandered up to Osmund’s face. He took a step back but sputtered for a second
before nodding. “Yes sir. There’s one left, but we cater to wealthy merchants
and the like.” He eyed Jez. “I don’t think you could afford it.”

Osmund scowled, and produced two heavy gold coins and
pressed them into the innkeeper’s palm. The man looked at the coins, and his
demeanor instantly brightened. He led Jez and Osmund to a door in the back of
the room, ignoring the looks the other patrons gave them. They went up a flight
of stairs and to the end of a hall. The room he led them to was nearly as big
as Jez’s quarters in the keep, though it wasn’t so opulently decorated. A wide
bed dominated the room, and a tall window overlooked the city. The only other
pieces of furniture were a pair of chairs and a small table carved to look like
it had bird’s legs. Jez sank into one of the chairs and let out a breath. The
innkeeper bowed and handed Osmund a key. He turned to go, but Osmund grabbed
his arm and handed him another coin.

“We weren’t here,” he said.

The innkeeper looked from Osmund to Jez. Suddenly, he
looked less sure of himself, but nodded. He snatched his hand away and scurried
back the way they had come.

“That won’t work, you know.” Jez said. “I’m in a sick
robe, and you’re a giant. Everybody saw us. It won’t be long before Haziel
hears about it.”

“I know,” Osmund said. “What do you want to do? The
city gates are probably being watched by now, but I’m sure we could get out of
the city if we had to. Lantian is only a few days away. We could find a
speaking stone there, and contact the Academy. The chancellor could send help,
or maybe the queen.”

Jez thought about it for a second. By all accounts,
Queen Istar was one of the most brilliant military minds alive, and he would
give much to have her aid, but he shook his head. “I don’t think there’s time
for that. If Maries is as bad as Villia says, he could have his entire army
summoned by the time we got back. If that happens, I don’t think even the queen
would be able to stop him.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. How do we find him, and
how do we stop him when we do?”

Jez’s mouth went dry, and he realized he was reaching
for a sword that wasn’t there. “I think I’ll have to transform. I might even
have to go all the way.”

Osmund pursed his lips, but he didn’t disagree. They
were desperate, and a demon of the fourth order was so powerful, it was almost
beyond imagining. Without transforming into Luntayary and fully embracing the
pharim’s power, Jez could think of no way to stand against Maries. The only
problem was Luntayary’s power couldn’t be fully contained by human flesh. If he
drew that power too deeply, the radiant energy would consume his body from the
inside out.

They stayed in the inn for a few
hours. Osmund went out to get clothes and bandages for Jez’s wounds while Jez
kept a watch through the window. He placed a ward on the hall that would warn
him anytime someone approached, but he took it down the fourth time one of the
inn’s patrons set it off. He never saw guards in the street, and as impossible
as it seemed, he began to hope they had called off the search. Once Osmund
returned, and Jez had dressed and bandaged his wounds, they went back out into
the city.

Avoiding the guards turned out to be fairly simple.
They never saw any, which was conspicuous in and of itself. The people just
went about their day to day lives, oblivious to the events of the keep. Jez
looked for any sign of demons, but the only smells were the normal scents of a
city. People sweated under the sun. The scent of coal hung heavy near a
blacksmith. Bakers displayed wares at their stands, and the smell made Jez’s
mouth water. It was only when he neared the gate that he finally caught the
scent of sulfur. It was the only place he’d seen guards. A man and a woman
stood in front of the gate, refusing to let anyone out. They reeked of sulfur,
and as Jez neared, they turned toward him. Their movements mirrored each other
so precisely, Jez doubted it was natural. He ducked his head and tried to fade
back into the crowd.