Arcanius (27 page)

“Here,” Olyva said. “This place will do.”

They were standing across the street from a shop that said Tyrrance Custom Tailory. The shop had large windows up front, but the rear had no windows.

“The front will be where the tailor conducts business,” Olyva explained. “In the back he’ll have a few seamstresses working. He should also have racks of finished gowns. Get me something long.”

“How many seamstresses?” Lexi asked.

“Half a dozen, maybe more.”

“What am I supposed to do—wave a magic wand and become invisible?” Lexi asked.

“No, just get what we need. I’ll distract them.”

Olyva left Lexi standing across the street and went directly into the tailor’s shop. Tyrrance was a short man, with a round stomach and very little hair on his head. He grew a wispy mustache and had a several pins in his mouth. He straightened when Olyva came in, looking at her from head to toe. Olyva knew she looked disheveled. Before being banished she would never have dreamed of being seen in public without making sure she looked well made up. Helen, her old dressing maid, had always seen to it that Olyva had beautiful dresses and then would see to her hair and makeup, sometimes spending hours preparing her to go out for just a little while. Now she was in a wrinkled dress that was too short for her, with no shoes, strange feet, windblown hair, and no makeup.

For an instant she felt embarrassed. Her old sense of pride reared its ugly head, and she wondered what the tailor must think of her, but then she smiled. It would be easier to cause a scene if she looked strange, and Rafe didn’t care if she wore makeup or had a fine dress. He was hanging upside down from the palace wall, and she was his only hope of rescue.

“May I help you?” the tailor said skeptically, after taking the pins from his mouth.

“I need a dress,” Olyva said. “Something that will cover my horrid feet.”

The tailor looked down again. By mentioning her own feet, Olyva had given the short man a reason to stare and he did so. When he finally looked up at her he was frowning.

“My lady,” he said, his voice sounding shaky. “Is there something wrong—“

“No!” screamed Olyva. “I can’t help it. My feet are hideous, but it isn’t my fault.”

She burst into tears, and the tailor looked stunned for a minute, completely unsure what to do. He found an scrap of linen and gave it to her to wipe the tears from her face.

“There, there,” he said uncertainly.

Olyva looked up and saw faces peeking around the large door that led to the tailor’s back room.

“Please,” Olyva said. “You have to help me. I can’t go on like this. My feet are so hideous.”

The seamstresses were straining to catch a glimpse of Olyva’s feet now. And the tailor was searching for a way to calm her down.

“If you don’t help me, I’ll kill myself,” Olyva said. “My life isn’t worth living anyway. No man will every marry a freak like me. I’ll throw myself from the city walls.”

“Now, don’t be hasty,” the tailor said, trying to reassure her. “I’m certain we can do something to help.”

“Really?” Olyva asked.

“We could create a gown that billows around your feet,” he said skeptically. It was almost as if he were asking a question, and he paused, waiting for Olyva to encourage him or maybe afraid that she would start shouting again.

“Go on,” she said calmly.

“The billows would hide your feet, even when you walk,” he said. “You might have to take small steps, but I’m sure we can do it.”

“No,” Olyva said loudly. “I’ll just trip and fall. Can’t you see my toes?”

She raised one foot in front of the tailor, letting her rootish toes rest on his round belly. The tailor lurched backward, tripping over a stool and crashing into the dressing mannequin he had been pinning fabric to when Olyva came in. The seamstresses couldn’t contain their laughter, and Olyva did her best to maximize the chaos.

“What is wrong with you!?” she shouted. “Are you afraid of me? You think I’m some kind of monster?”

She stalked forward, and the tailor was scurrying backward, still on his hands and knees.

“No, no, no, my lady.”

“You’re afraid that I have some awful disease. You’re thinking I’m going to spread it all around your shop,” Olyva screeched. “Well I hope it’s true. I hope your feet become so ugly you can’t stand the sight of them. I hope everyone that comes in this place gets horrid, ugly feet and can never wear shoes again.”

“Shoes!” the tailor said, finally finding something he thought might help him get rid of Olyva. “I have a friend, the best cobbler in Avondale. I know he can fashion shoes that will cover your feet, my dear.”

“Shoes?” Olyva said, as if she had never thought of getting shoes before.

“Yes,” the tailor said, getting back to his feet. “I can assure you he will help.”

“Can you take me to him?” Olyva whined.

“I’m very busy, my lady. This is not a good time for me to leave my shop.”

“Please?” Olyva said.

“Alas, no, but Horrace will help you. His shop is just down the street. He’s the best shoemaker in the city, perhaps even in all of Valana.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Olyva said.

“It has been my pleasure,” the tailor said, escorting Olyva to the door.

“I’ll be back,” Olyva said. “I’ll need a dress to match my beautiful new shoes.”

“Of course,” the tailor said, almost shoving her toward the door.

“You have been so helpful,” Olyva said. “How can I thank you?”

“There is no need,” the tailors said.

When the door closed, Olyva waited for a moment just outside until she heard the laughter she had been expecting. The seamstresses were in an uproar, and it would take the tailor several minutes to calm them down and get them back to work.

As Olyva walked toward the spot where she had left Lexi, she saw a flash of color out of the corner of her eye. There was a narrow alleyway, just beyond the tailor’s shop. Olyva hurried down the shadowy corridor.

“I got the dresses,” Lexi whispered.

“And a wig,” Olyva said, trying not to laugh.

Lexi had long, flowing tresses of dark hair hanging around her shoulders.

“You like it?”

“You look like a different person,” Olyva said with a smile.

“Let’s just hope your plan works,” Lexi said.

“It will,” Olyva replied. “Trust me.”

Chapter 31

Tiberius

When he woke up, he was alone. The floor was stone, and his face was pressed hard against it. He tried to move, but the pain was so intense, he couldn’t. His sight dimmed for a moment, and his stomach rolled, emptying its contents in a weak spew that left bile in his throat and mouth.

He wasn’t sure at first what was wrong—his mind seemed sluggish, but then he remembered. Rafe had stabbed him. Tiberius couldn’t comprehend why. Rafe had said he was staying in Avondale to take his father’s place, but he was fighting to see Earl Ageus returned to power, not Brutas.

“
Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus
,” Tiberius said weakly.

The flow of magic was encouraging at first. He felt the power swirling around him and directed it into his body. He felt the wound ruining his kidney and causing a massive hemorrhaging in his abdomen. The spell would heal it, but then the
Corporeus Adfectus
doubled his pain, and he passed out again.

Water splashed into his face and woke Tiberius with a painful shock. His back muscles spasmed with pain, and he struggled to remain conscious.

“Wake up, little brother,” Brutas said. “To be honest, I’m a little disappointed. Leo thinks you are some great wizard. Yet I defeated you almost singlehandedly with hardly a fight at all. I admit your fire trick was impressive but hardly formidable.”

“
Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus.
”

“Are you casting a spell right now?” Brutas said in mock terror. “Oh no, are you attempting to turn me into a toad?”

Tiberius ignored his brother’s taunts. He knew that if he didn’t heal himself, he would die soon. He was so weak he could barely focus on the spell, and when the shock of pain from his magical empathy kicked in, it took all his strength to keep from blacking out again.

“
Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus
,” Tiberius repeated quietly.

He chanted the spell over and over while Brutas studied him.

“I can’t quite put my finger on what it is you are trying to do,” Brutas said. He held up the Balestone. “You know I never thought much about magic before. Even recently in Sparlan Citadel, when I saw what Leo had accomplished, I still didn’t think of how I might help myself with a little boost of magical power. But then I found this rock in your belongings. It’s quite remarkable. It speaks to me, brother. It whispers things in my ear that I have never considered before. I find that I feel stronger with it.”

“
Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus
,” Tiberius continued, feeling the healing spell working.

His head was beginning to clear, and the pain was in a steady decline. He hoped Brutas would go on babbling until Tiberius could regain his full strength and continue the fight.

“And even now I hear a voice in my mind. It’s really quite seductive, isn’t it? Who knew that the blighted lands hid such treasures? Perhaps I shall have to go and find more of these powerful stones. Maybe I could become king, just like Leo. I’d have to kill him, of course, but that wouldn’t be unreasonable. He’s become very nasty with his new sense of power. I’m not sure where his comes from, but this little rock is just brimming with power.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Brutas said in surprise. “You are healing your own wound, aren’t you? That is fascinating. What happens if I do this?”

He ripped open Tiberius’ cloak and then thrust the stone into Ti’s wound. The healing spell had dealt with Tiberius’ ruined kidney and stopped the internal bleeding. He was just about to switch to the laceration spell that would mend the severed muscles and seal up the wound, but instead a searing new fire made Tiberius scream.

He could feel the foul effects of the Balestone as the magic seeped into him. His mind was flooded with thoughts that were not his own. He could hear the screams of beings gone mad, feel the anger and fury from the stone.

“Oooohhhh,” Brutas said cruelly. “Does it hurt, brother?”

Brutas shoved the stone deeper, trying to hurt Tiberius, but suddenly a wave of power knocked Brutas backward. He fell with a cry, and several of the king’s soldiers came rushing in. Tiberius felt his wound healing on its own, felt the stone burrowing deeper into his back, like a mouse hiding in a haystack. He felt the power of the Balestone surging through him as it became part of him. His mind was suddenly very clear, and his own anger was like a raging furnace.

He rose quickly to his feet, only to find four spearmen leveling their weapons at him. Brutas was scurrying out the door, frightened and hurt. He’d arrived at Avondale with one hand bandaged and unusable, and now his other hand was black and shriveled.

“Kill him!” Brutas shouted.

“
Scuti Incantatio
,” Tiberius said, raising one hand toward the soldiers, palm up.

The soldiers lunged forward, thrusting their spears toward Tiberius. They should have impaled him, but the magical shield was too strong. Tiberius had used the shielding spell on multiple occasions. Each time the spell felt almost like holding a real shield between himself an his attackers. Their blows were felt kinetically through the invisible, magical barrier, and Tiberius fully expected to be rocked back by the powerful thrusts of the spearmen. Instead, it was the soldiers who were rocked back. Ti extended his hand, pushing the shielding spell forward, and the four soldiers were knocked senseless.

Tiberius knew that something had happened. The Balestone had somehow infused its magical strength into him. He could still feel the powerful stone lodged in his back. It hurt, yet he felt stronger and more capable than ever. He could still hear the voices—they were whispering to him now. He had felt the stone urging him to action before, but he had never heard the voices. He had to push them back before they overwhelmed his mind.

He knew he had to do something about the Balestone, but he needed to deal with his brother’s treachery first. He stepped out into the hallway. Brutas had sent Tiberius to a small room that was used by people waiting to see the earl. In the corridor, Brutas was running, his hands ruined, his troops looking unsure as he bellowed at them to kill Tiberius. Ti felt a sudden urge to summon lightning and strike his brother down. He could imagine himself channeling the awesome power of the lightning and hurling it at his brother, as if he were some sort of god, but he resisted the urge. He didn’t want to kill Brutas and he wouldn’t risk destroying the palace in his quest for revenge.

“
Somni Incantatio
,” he whispered.