Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (26 page)

“You have men out in the forest,” said Gazija suddenly. “More than when Mazoet found you. The remnants of your band.”

“You surprise me, old man. You know things you should not.”

“I make it my business to know things.” Gazija coughed harshly and raised a kerchief to his lips. It came away stained scarlet. He gestured, and one of his servants brought his walking sticks for him to lean his weight on.

Aidan stared at the blood but said nothing.

“As I said, the more you know, the better decisions you can make.”

“And the more you know, the more power you have.”

“Whoever told you knowledge is power should throw themselves off a cliff. Power comes in many different forms. Knowledge is one, I’ll grant you, but so are ducats, and leverage. An emperor has more power than a farmer, does he not? Why? Because of his position. A reward can hold power, as can individual charisma. A fool stops at knowledge.”

“So you say.”

“I do say. Now, to the business at hand. We will need your assistance, if we’re to liberate Anasoma. Some things we’re able to do on our own, but we cannot do everything.”

“How many of you are there?”

Gazija gave him a penetrating stare. “Enough.”

“I don’t know if I want to help you yet, old man.”

“You will. The fact is, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s in your nature.”

“My nature is to find evil and injustice wherever I can and destroy it.” Caitlyn’s ideals, which he shared. It was what had drawn them together. But unlike her, he wouldn’t let it break him.

“Exactly. It was fortuitous you fell into our lap; we can use someone like you. You and your men. A band well known for what they are and what they do. I fear if the Lady Caitlyn were still with you, she would have tried to kill me already.”

Aidan scowled. “Do not speak of her.”

Gazija bowed his head. “I know her memory pains you. She must have meant a lot to you.”

“You know nothing, old man.”

“I know enough.” Gazija sighed, the deep weary sound of a man straining under many burdens. His shoulders slumped slightly. “The past is a yoke around everyone’s neck, be they young or old.” He stirred himself and straightened. “But my mind wanders. We were talking of how you can help us.”

“Tell me what you want,” Aidan said. His blood ran cold just thinking about working with Gazija and his unknown motives, but he must do what he had to do. Brute force wouldn’t win the day here; he needed to be subtle. Only from the inside could he find their weakness. Caitlyn had followed a different path, but hers had led to madness and despair.

“I want you to leave us.” Gazija chuckled at the sharp look Aidan gave him. “I know you will be reluctant to depart our company after partaking of our hospitality, but it must be done, I’m afraid. The Indryallans’ plans are in motion, our counter plans are in motion, and somewhere out there, the empire’s plans are also in motion. And I do so hate not knowing what they are up to.”

“Don’t you have spies that can tell you?”

“We are the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern, not spies. Oh, we have sources of information, of course: friendly merchants and traders, people indebted to us who are only too happy to pass along what they know. But we have avoided most of the major cities and especially the capital. You can understand why.”

Gazija coughed into a liver-spotted hand, a harsh racking sound. A number of his people threw concerned looks his way, shifting nervously on their feet. “It is no life for us. Such a once proud people,” he mused. “Look at us now. We are diminished, a shadow of what we were. We have been running too long. We ran before, and I still believe it was the right decision. But now we face a similar choice, though forewarned in this instance. It is time we stopped running, whatever the outcome.”

What lies behind this? What ‘proud people’?
Aidan’s suspicions did not go away. Words were just words; he would trust in reason and evidence as his guide to the truth.

“I ask again,” he said flatly, clenching his teeth in an effort to control his distaste. “What do you want?”

“Vasile has two tasks, with gifts uniquely suited to one, and a slight chance he could succeed at the second.” Gazija eyed Aidan warily then looked away. “We want you to help him with the second task.”

“And what would that be?”

“By now, the news of the invasion is all over the empire. People have seen the flames barricading Anasoma and been turned away. Messengers will have been sent in all directions, as fast as they can travel. Even your sorcerers have ways of communicating. We know the emperor has already been informed and formulated a response. A heavy-handed one, to be sure. His forces will already be on their way.”

“So, we should leave it to them, then. They’ll retake the city and mop up the Indryallans, and at the same time send a message to others who might challenge the might of the emperor.”

“Maybe. We suspect something is amiss.”

“What?” scoffed Aidan.

“If we knew, I would tell you.”

“Would you, really?”

Gazija shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Then why should I trust you?”

“Judge us on our actions.”

“I can’t, if I’m not here.”

“True. But then, whether you are here or not, our actions will be the same.” Gazija waved a hand to the north in a gesture Aidan thought was meant to encompass Anasoma and beyond. “This will not be decided on small movements and conversations like this one, though they are part of a grander scheme. Or perhaps it will… I cannot see the future. What I mean to say is that the larger events will paint a clearer picture for you.”

Their verbal jousting left a sour taste in Aidan’s mouth. He’d listened to about as much as he could take. He turned his head and spat. Old men and their self-important musings, enamored with the sound of their own voices. As Aidan’s father had been. Aidan had been raised and taught by tutors, and hadn’t yet started to shave when he realized his father was vain, boastful, and conceited. He was also weak, possessive, corrupt, and a liar. Aidan’s four older brothers had beaten him senseless when he came to them with his fears. He ran away as soon as he could after that.

“Get to the point, old man. Your rambling is getting on my nerves.”

Gazija inclined his head. “As you wish. I want you to escort Vasile to the west, away from Anasoma.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the emperor will have sent soldiers this way in a response to the invasion. Most likely a great many of them, along with Protectors and his warlocks. Such a challenge to his rule will not be tolerated. And my information is that he will come himself, albeit at the rear of his army, and probably against the advice of his advisors. The chance to see such a victory firsthand is too enticing. To parade into the retaken city at the head of a victorious army, after a true display of power and might… He will be coming. I am certain of it.”

“What does this have to do with Vasile? And with me?”

“Vasile met the emperor briefly, a long time ago. We believe the emperor might even trust him, to a certain extent. We’ve tasked Vasile to petition an audience with the emperor and explain what we’ve done to help. Vasile will then serve as our representative and convince the emperor we can be trusted. I can’t reveal everything to you, but it is imperative the emperor sees us as a valuable ally. It is our hope Vasile will be persuasive.”

“I don’t want to piss on your fire, but that is a faint hope.”

“Empires are complex systems, and emperors are complex beings. What we have done, and are about to do, will reveal the extent of our power to the empire. They would have found out eventually, but it’s best they do so on our terms.”

“And when will Vasile be back? Mazoet seems to have disappeared with him.”

“Soon, very soon. They have gone to hurry along our army, among other things.”

Aidan’s mouth opened in shock.

They have an army?

Chapter Fourteen

Amerdan’s memory of his childhood was jumbled and scattered. Certain scenes were vivid, while others were washed out, faded. He liked to think of the vibrant pockets of memories as the ones which were life changing. It was as if his mind had taken hold of what he saw, smelled, touched, heard, and etched them into his soul, much like a stain or tattoo. Contrary to what most people he spoke to said they experienced, his memories were becoming clearer. It was a curiosity he believed was a byproduct of his reinvention, part of his transformation along the way to rebirth.

His clearest memories would often come on him unawares, when he was involved with ordinary day to day tasks, as if to remind him, to keep him focused.

He remembered his family, the faces of his mother and father, his sisters. Their cozy house was a few days’ walk from the village. His father always smelled like dirt and sweat from his day’s labor on the farm, though his mother never seemed to mind.

Dust glowed in the sunlight inside their house, streaming through windows wide open to summer. That was the day his father died. And his mother. The day the sorcerer came with his… things. Monsters. Looking for children to take for his experiments. Months they spent in the iron cage, judging the passage of time by the light through an iron grate in the stone wall.

Cold, dirty, barely fed enough to keep them alive, Amerdan’s sisters begged one of the sorcerer’s servants for extra food, which they passed to him so he could keep up his strength. After all, he was the eldest. They looked to him to save them.

Amerdan squeezed his eyes shut at the memory—the most painful of all, even more so than the deaths of his parents. His failure to protect them. Strength and opportunity to overcome the sorcerer had come on him too late. Even the man’s warm blood hadn’t been enough to wash away his shame.

Did he hate sorcerers? He often thought on this. Hate was an emotion he didn’t feel. He really didn’t care about anything. Except what he wanted, and what felt good to him.

He grasped the silver chain around his neck and drew out his
trinket
, the second thing of value the sorcerer had given to him. Bringing the spherical pendant to his lips, he kissed it gently then placed it in his mouth, letting his tongue roll around it, moistening the surface. If only I could absorb you, he thought. Subsume the
trinket
. Become as one.

Inside his shirt, Dotty moved against his skin. He felt safe with her there, but she couldn’t help him if she couldn’t see. He didn’t know why she’d come alive after all but one of his sisters were killed, but he was glad she had. He liked to think part of his sisters had joined with the doll.

When Caldan had left for the city this morning, Amerdan decided not to wait any longer. Bells wasn’t providing Caldan with enough information to make keeping her alive a proposition that would benefit him. And he had waited long enough to determine if Caldan himself was worth absorbing. Compared to Bells, he was a babe in the woods, despite having bested her in the tunnels under Anasoma, where luck had played a large part in their escape. No, Bells was… exquisite. He sucked on his
trinket
as if it were a boiled sweet, savoring the harsh metallic taste in his mouth. What he wanted—what he needed—was for Bells to take him to meet her God-Emperor. Then she would have fulfilled her function and could go on to serve her last purpose with him.

Caldan had sorted through her
crafting
s and left five of the bells behind, and Amerdan knew it was a sign. Elpidia had taken another furtive taste of Caldan’s blood. No matter how secretive she tried to be, she still shouted her actions to anyone who could see, including Bells. When he was returning to the camp carrying his mice, a crow cawed five times, and he knew the time had come.

He secreted himself outside of the camp and pulled out his rag doll from his shirt. He hadn’t minded keeping her there while they were traveling, close to his skin, and to his beating heart.

Dotty agreed, and it was done.

Let Bells think she had persuaded him to join her for the ducats. It wouldn’t matter. She would find out what was coming and beg for his mercy. In the end, they all did, to no avail.

“Aren’t you going to help with the fire?”

Bells’ annoyed voice carried to where he sat in the darkness. Through the trees, he could see a faint orange glow. He spat his
trinket
out and tucked it underneath his shirt. In a few moments, he gathered up the sticks he had left beside him and walked into the light.

Bells had dug a small pit into the soft earth beneath the trees and started a fire, enough for warmth and perhaps a meal. Let her cook what she wanted. After his imprisonment as a boy, Amerdan always preferred his meals raw.

Pits were useful, though. For fires. For burying things.

He stepped close. “Here you go.” He gave the sorcerous slit a brief smile. It was what people did.

“Thank you,” Bells replied. “Just leave it there.”

Amerdan placed the firewood next to the pit. He guessed he had better reinforce her opinion of him.

“Ah… when will I get my ducats?”

Bells gave a weary shrug. “When we get back.” She eyed him cautiously, as if deciding something. “But that might take longer than you think. We need to go west first.”

“Why is that?”

“I was tasked with joining up with the emperor’s army anyway. For…” The sorcerer hesitated. “For a few reasons. I have to fulfill my mission. You can go back to Anasoma and wait for me, or you can help me succeed.”

Amerdan remained still. To the west, the empire would be gathering its forces, and he was sure this sorcerer couldn’t take on an army. Nothing else west except perhaps…

“You’re going to meet with the emperor. To kill him, or to negotiate?”

Her eyes narrowed, and he knew he’d struck close to the truth.

Bells looked down, and a brief smile flickered across her face. “To talk with the emperor. Among other things. I can guarantee you’ll see your gold; they won’t risk killing me.”

Lies and more lies. “What about Caldan? He killed Keys, and you promised to kill them all. Except for me, of course.”