Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (27 page)

Amerdan chuckled inside every time he threw Keys’ death into her face.

“Caldan and Elpidia will have to wait until I’m finished.”

Amerdan gave her a nod.
I don’t believe her,
he thought, inwardly smirking.
The slit’s trying to deceive me. She is going to kill the emperor somehow. Unless I kill him first. What talents might an emperor have that lesser things don’t?

He savored the sweet thought.
One emperor is as good as another. Two is even better.

•

“There’s a place for you here,” the journeyman said, pointing to an open door leading into a bare room. The tall man with lank greasy hair had interrupted Caldan’s bath and hurried him to the journeymen’s quarters.

There was an empty wooden bench against one wall, a narrow cot covered with a gray woolen blanket, and the window was shuttered.

Caldan nodded his thanks and dumped his belongings onto the bench with a metallic clink. After scrubbing himself clean, he felt invigorated, and eager to use any spare time he had investigating Bells’
crafting
s.

“If you need anything, call out,” added the journeyman, smiling apologetically. “Someone will always be outside. We’ve been passed word you’re to be treated as one of us, but we can’t give you the run of the building yet.”

“I understand,” replied Caldan as the man left and closed the door behind him. And he did. The masters had much to think about and discuss regarding his sudden appearance and the
trinket
he’d brought with him, whatever its nature. He shoved that thought from his mind.

He’d done what he wanted to, and now he needed to get out of here without arousing suspicion. Tricky, considering they would find him leaving so soon a cause for concern, even alarm. But he had to get back to Miranda.

Examining the window, he found the shutters locked. With no exit that way, and a journeyman standing guard outside his room, his options were limited. Breaking through the window with raw destructive sorcery was a fool’s choice; it would reveal to the Protectors here far more than he wanted to and wouldn’t give him much of a head start. It was likely he’d be caught before he could escape the building. No, he needed to be gone a good few hours before they found out.

He just had to dissociate his mind from the problem and let the solution come to him, as it so often did when playing Dominion.

Caldan looked up as a drop of rain spattered against the window. Then another. Lightning flashed through the cracks of the shutters, and moments later there was a roll of thunder. Drops steadily increased to a constant patter. He hoped Elpidia had moved Miranda into the covered wagon before the rain hit.

He pulled out the
crafting
s they had taken from the Bleeder, Mahsonn, and sat on the cot. Whatever Mahsonn’s abilities, he’d needed
crafting
s to execute sorcery, just like everyone else. The Bleeder had a few tricks, and Caldan wanted to see what they were, in case they might come in handy. Bells’
crafting
s were far too complex for him to figure out in a short amount of time, but he guessed Mahsonn’s would be much easier to decipher.

Two wristbands and a medallion. Not much for a sorcerer who supposedly had a rare talent. And shoddily smith-crafted, too, except for one of the medallions.

Caldan pushed the other items aside and cradled the medallion in his hand. It had to be the one which enabled Mahsonn to hide from view. The other
crafting
s barely warranted the designation. Though the metals seemed pure, the link between the materials and the runes was patchy, at best. Probably Mahsonn’s own work, while the medallion was something else: made by a master smith-crafter.

Caldan opened his well and concentrated on it. There were far too many links and anchors for a journeyman, or even a master, to be able to connect strings to. He counted them. Thirteen. That was… impossible. Yet he remembered what Bells had said: Bleeders were able to focus their power into many tiny threads, and control them.

He threw the medallion onto the cot and sighed with disgust. It was useless to him, specifically designed so only a Bleeder could link to it. Unless he could master splitting his well into so many strings, he couldn’t begin to understand how it functioned.

He examined the three other
crafting
s and determined they were practically worthless. One was for shielding, though the quality was so poor it would hardly fulfill its function. A major disadvantage of the Bleeders, Caldan assumed. A practically non-functioning well would severely limit what a sorcerer could do.

He pounded on the door, and within moments it opened to reveal the journeyman.

“I need to see Master Annelie,” Caldan said firmly. “Or Master Mold. Whoever is free.”

“They’re closeted in a meeting. I don’t think—”

“Knock until someone answers; make a nuisance of yourself. I don’t care. Just get one of them to see me. It’s important. I… forgot to tell them something.”

The journeyman looked askance at him but eventually nodded.

•

Master Annelie barely glanced at him as she entered the room before striding to the window. She poked at the shutters, as if to ensure they were locked, then turned to face him, toying with a lock of her blonde hair.

Caldan could feel the air vibrate around her from the powerful
crafting
s she wore, presumably under her robes, as he couldn’t see any in plain sight.

“I’m told there is something else you need to tell me,” Annelie said. “Something you… forgot. Am I correct?”

Swallowing nervously, Caldan nodded in reply. He wrung his hands to appear anxious, though it was hardly an act. He couldn’t predict which way the masters would turn, and he risked Miranda’s health by exposing what he knew, but it was the only idea he could think of to reveal how adept these Protectors were with coercive sorcery.

“Before Master Simmon… died, he told me he wasn’t in control of his actions.”

Caldan saw Annelie freeze, green eyes boring into his. Shock flickered across her face before she smoothed her expression.

“How so?”

“He said he did things harmful to the Protectors. That it was like he was a prisoner in his own mind, looking out while someone else controlled his actions.”

Annelie broke eye contact. “Go on.”

“He believed the Indryallans had used coercive sorcery on him, but he wouldn’t tell me more.”

Annelie brushed her hair over an ear, revealing an earring, which she touched in an unconscious gesture. Another
crafting
, set with a small stone. It was a streaky orange form of jasper, if he wasn’t mistaken, just like Bells’ coercive sorcery
crafting
.

So, they knew how to use coercive sorcery, but it was probably greater forbidden knowledge than even destructive sorcery. But did they only know enough to defend themselves, or did they have more indepth knowledge? If he let on what he knew, there was no telling how he would be treated, and he might not have a chance to heal Miranda.

“You mentioned coercive sorcery before, but now you say Master Simmon was under its influence,” she said. “But being able to overcome the defenses a master has in place is disconcerting. I’ll bring it up with the other masters. Did Simmon say anything else?” Her green eyes regarded him with intensity.

“No. He only directed me to where he hid the
trinket
and told me to warn the Protectors and the emperor, which is one of the reasons I asked to see you. I need to leave, to see the emperor. I promised Master Simmon.”

Annelie laughed at his words and placed a hand over her mouth. She shook her head in mock despair. “Oh, my. You’re serious. There’s no way you’ll be granted an audience with the emperor. You’re far too low in the hierarchy to even be considered.”

“But… I promised. Simmon wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important.”

Annelie waved a hand to dismiss his words. “Simmon probably meant once you informed us of what had happened, we would then tell the emperor.”

“Perhaps that’s it.”

She placed a hand reassuringly on his arm. “I’m sure it is. Don’t worry, the emperor is on his way, and we’ll have this mess sorted out in no time.”

“The emperor is coming here?”

“Yes. He’s mobilized a number of armies, and they’re scheduled to gather here. The Indryallans will be no match for them, and it’s not the role of the Protectors to get involved. The emperor’s finest troops will be coming, along with his warlocks. The Indryallans will be pushed back into the sea, and Anasoma will be liberated. Then he can see to the Indryallan lands themselves. The Sotharle Union of Cities are bad enough with their constant skirmishes, but this cannot be tolerated. A show of force is needed to remind the world of the power of the empire, and the emperor, may he live forever.”

Caldan’s thoughts churned. Of course a show of force was needed. Of course the emperor would gather an army to march on Anasoma. Why hadn’t the Indryallans foreseen this? Why had they invaded one city and not others? Why had they not continued on to invade the surrounding countryside?

Pieces clicked into place, as they did for him when playing Dominion, and Caldan felt the blood drain from his face.

Because they wanted the emperor to assemble his forces in one place. Along with as many Protectors as they could. With the emperor at their head. Anasoma was bait, a lure. The Indryallan destructive sorcery was more powerful than anything anyone had seen since the Shattering. Could they be powerful enough to massacre a whole army?

Caldan feared he knew the truth. His stomach churned at the thought. Weak-kneed, he sat on his cot and shivered.

“Listen. We have to stop him. The emperor. They’ll be annihilated.”

“What are you talking about?” Annelie said.

“Can’t you see?” Caldan all but shouted. “This is their design. Think about it. Why only invade Anasoma? Why nowhere else? Why take over the city and do nothing else, except wait for the emperor and his soldiers?”

“We don’t know that’s all they’re doing. There must be something in Anasoma they want.”

“No. It makes no sense. Anasoma is like kicking an ants’ nest and waiting for the ants to come out. But what can they do from there? Surely their destructive sorcery needs a focus, a powerful sorcerer strong enough to direct where the sorcery should…” His voice trailed off. Bells. She must have wanted to travel west toward the emperor all along. He had aided the Indryallans with their plan. And if this was the natural gathering point for the emperor’s armies, Bells had come as far west as she needed to.

“By the ancestors’ shadows,” cursed Caldan. “I’ve been stupid. I have to go. My friends are in danger.”

“What friends? Are you not alone?”

A loud banging on the door interrupted them.

“Master Annelie,” shouted a voice. “Come quickly. A crazy woman just drove a wagon into the courtyard. She’s screaming for Caldan.”

Annelie flashed him an annoyed look, brow furrowed. “Come with me,” she commanded.

Chapter Fifteen

Felice awoke to cold, dank, musty air. It smelled of human waste and… fear.

Her full bladder pressed against her insides, and her head ached. Her jaw hurt, as if she’d been grinding her teeth all night. Except, she realized, she hadn’t simply been asleep. She groaned and rubbed the skin on her arms, remembering Savine Khedevis.

She half-levered herself up from the floor. She was lying on rotting straw, some of which stuck to her clothes. She peered around in the dim light. At least she still had her clothes, though everything else of value had been taken.

Cold stone and the stench confirmed her fears. She’d been imprisoned. An iron shackle was clamped around her right foot, attached to a chain, which in turn was bolted to a wall.

She laughed weakly, throat dry.

Next to her was a clay jug, and she fumbled it toward her. Water. She drank deeply, reasoning they had no need to drug her, at least not yet. In moments, the jug was empty, and she was still thirsty.

The room she was in was large, not a typical cell with a locked door or metal bars. Peering into the gloom, she could barely make out an opening at the far end. She couldn’t confirm where she was being held, but the Indryallan headquarters was her best guess. So, somewhere inside the keep, which she knew well.

There was no bucket that she could see to relieve herself, so she limped to the closest corner, chain clinking on the stone floor, and did her business there.

She had often had occasion to visit prisoners for questioning, but never been an occupant. It was a new experience, one she vowed never to repeat. Her men must have escaped. Though she doubted Avigdor managed to get away. He must be here somewhere, a prisoner like she was. Perhaps her men would come for them? No. They were too well trained and knew hopeless odds when they saw them. There was no chance they’d decide to mount a rescue.

She’d been sure she had evaded pursuit, and yet Savine Khedevis had tracked and captured her. How?

She shook her head with frustration. No matter. She had made a mistake and would have plenty of time to figure out what it was so she wouldn’t make it again.

•

“Get up. Get up. Get up.”

A harsh voice sounded in her head, followed by a sharp pain in her side. Someone had kicked her.

Felice moaned and struggled to roll over. This wasn’t how she had imagined her defense of Anasoma proceeding.

A hand grabbed her hair and yanked. Yelping, she struggled to her knees and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly at the light. She held a hand up to block the lantern clutched by an Indryallan soldier. He didn’t look too pleased; he looked uncomfortable, even. She rolled her eyes to see the man who had a handful of her hair: another Indryallan, this one with bad teeth and worse breath.

“Let go, you pignut,” Felice said.

A knee smacked into her head, and the room swirled. Her face burned where the knee had made contact, but it hadn’t been as jarring as she thought. She guessed the soldier hadn’t struck as hard as he could have; maybe he was afraid to injure her. Any thought she could use this to her advantage fled when she glimpsed a figure in the darkness behind the soldiers.