Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (44 page)

There was a strange buzzing noise and a flash of light from the edge of the clearing, and Aidan gave an irritated sigh.

“What?” said Vasile. Despite his agony he could sense something was wrong.

“Nothing,” lied Aidan. “Just rest.”

“You… can’t lie…”

“To you? That might get annoyingirritating.”

Vasile managed a ghost of a smile before twitching with pain.

“It’s Chalayan,” continued Aidan. “Just… keep an eye on him. He’s gained some sorcerous knowledge that was best left alone. And he got the idea from you.”

“I don’t—”

“Know anything about sorcery?”

Vasile nodded.

“You didn’t need to. It was the idea, the concept. He’s been experimenting for a few days, apparently. But when the jukari and vormag attacked, he took a chance, one that could have seen him killed, but it worked. And that’s what worries me: that Chalayan risked his own life for the knowledge. Down that path lies… well, nothing good.”

Vasile swallowed as he was given more water, then darkness descended again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The day dawned warm and grew hotter. It was an unseasonal day that had most of the Protectors in good cheer. Caldan looked for Joachim after working on his
crafting
s, but he had no luck. The warlock had disappeared. He questioned several journeymen and apprentices but they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, reveal where the man was; it made Caldan uneasy. Joachim was still an unknown, and despite his apparent helpfulness, his appearance had been too sudden and convenient.

It was almost midday when Caldan spotted the warlock entering the Protectors’ compound. Joachim bailed Caldan up in a corner of the courtyard, sitting in his usual spot, and started asking questions about his family, the monastery where he’d grown up, Simmon, Anasoma, and Bells.

Joachim was a bad liar, decided Caldan. Either that, or he was deliberately showing his hand, which wasn’t a good strategy in cards, and was an even worse one in Dominion.

Perhaps Joachim was trying to make Caldan nervous in order to have him slip up, but that meant he thought Caldan was the one who had something to hide. He did, but the warlock couldn’t possibly know that. He may have suspected, maybe, and that itself made Caldan nervous. What would the man do if his suspicions were confirmed? His thoughts turned to whatever reward the emperor would heap on the person who retrieved the bone
trinket
for him For that’s what it was, there was no mistaking it now: a
trinket
which wasn’t a
trinket
, or at least not of a type anyone knew. Bone… How could it withstand the forces flowing through its structure? It couldn’t. It was impossible, and yet… the bone
trinket
was unscathed after weathering the sorcery thrown at him by Bells when his own
crafting
had failed.

The thought niggled at him as he searched for connections, going over and over what had happened in the caves beneath Anasoma. He came up empty, but there was a link, he knew it. He was missing something, and it had to do with the Indryallans and their ability to focus destructive sorcery. There were patterns emerging, swirling around him, but as yet, he couldn’t get them to solidify into a concept.

“Did your family have a close relationship with the monastery?”

This was the second time he’d asked the question, and Caldan feared what would happen to the monks if he gave Joachim cause to think they had possession of the bone
trinket
.

“No. From what I remember, my parents kept mostly to themselves and didn’t visit the monastery.”

“Strange indeed. A place of learning so close, and with your mother a sorcerer, I’d have thought she’d have jumped at the chance to go there and converse with the monks, peruse their books.”

“She’d given that life up. I didn’t see her use any sorcery.”

“No one just gives sorcery up, young man. Who could give up such knowledge? And the ability to craft items of power? No, it’s not easily given up. I don’t know anyone who would do so willingly.”

Then they must have been unwilling, thought Caldan. And now I know what kind of man Joachim is: one who wouldn’t give up his sorcery for anything.

“We didn’t have many ducats; perhaps they sold this ring?”

Joachim shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps.”

But Caldan knew he didn’t think that had happened. If his parents knew what the bone
trinket
was, then they wouldn’t have sold it. And if they were also keeping it hidden from the empire, they must have had good reason to. He had to find out what that reason was. It was time to take a chance.

“Joachim, I’m not stupid. You keep mentioning this ring but claim it’s not significant. It obviously is. What’s so important about it?”

Joachim paused, staring at Caldan for a moment before looking away.

Caldan could almost hear his thoughts grinding, as he deliberated on whether to tell him anything—the truth, lies, or something in between. All Caldan had to do was figure out which was which.

“Your grandparents,” growled Joachim, “were thieves. Wait, perhaps that’s too harsh. They served the emperor, may he live forever, faithfully for many years. Your whole family did. The
trinket
presented by the emperor to Karrin Wraythe was allowed to be kept in her family’s possession, so long as they served.”

“But,” interrupted Caldan, “it’s only useful to someone who’s Touched, correct?”

“Yes. In most cases, the abilities skip a generation. But some families remain pure, their blood…” Joachim hesitated and licked his lips. “They are the most prized by the emperor, and he rewards them well.”

He’s hiding something. Or at the very least leaving the truth out.

Since Karrin Wraythe was his ancestor, was Wraythe his last name? He turned the moniker over in his mind. It was as good as any, and possibly as close to a real surname as he’d ever get.

“Why would my grandparents steal a bone ring? It couldn’t be a
crafting
or a
trinket
, or at least a very durable
crafting
. If they were valued and rewarded, why risk so much for a ring?”

Joachim sniffed and waved a hand dismissively. “As I said, they were thieves. The ring is an heirloom, passed down from emperor to emperor from the time of the Shattering. It has no power in and of itself.”

Lies and more lies, thought Caldan.

“What would be the point stealing such a ring? They had to know the emperor would come after them, and for something so personal, I don’t know how they escaped his notice for so long.” Which would also make that part of Joachim’s story untrue. So, a
trinket
that wasn’t a
trinket
. Possibly stolen from the emperor but maybe not. Which, if Joachim was lying, wasn’t an heirloom belonging to the emperor. He still had no firm answers, but at least he had more to go on. Eventually, a pattern would emerge, the only plausible clustering of the bits and pieces he could put together.

“Bah! Who knows why some people do what they do. Nine times out of ten, ducats are involved. Plenty of nobles would pay a fortune to have the ring in their possession. Its worth isn’t material, it’s in its provenance. It’s part of the emperor’s regalia, and some ignorant nobles would believe, if they possessed the ring, it would give them legitimacy.”

“To overthrow the emperor?”

“Of course. Some people have high ambitions.”

“But… no one would follow them. The emperor’s family has held the empire together for centuries.”

“Reality hasn’t stopped many people from taking stupid actions.” Irritation tinged Joachim’s voice. “Enough of this subject. If you recall anything, let me know. Now, leave me. I’ve work to do. Make yourself useful by helping the Protectors, and find out what progress they’ve made locating Bells. You’d think a crafted compass attuned to her would be enough, but no… Some people are useless.”

Caldan nodded and left the warlock to his thoughts. He didn’t particularly like being ordered around by someone he knew was lying to him, but at this stage, he didn’t have much choice. Joachim had answers, and Caldan had better stay close to him if he wanted to find them out.

He yawned and stumbled, still tired from staying up most of the night
crafting
what he could and sitting by Miranda’s side. He’d been using what skills he’d learned from Bells, and her
crafting
, to see if there was any way he could speed up Miranda’s recovery. Except, he knew he couldn’t do anything; he was powerless to help her. Joachim had neatly tied Caldan to him by stalling Miranda’s deterioration and claiming he couldn’t actually heal her. Who knew what the truth was? Caldan certainly didn’t.

Frustrated, he passed the meeting room, where he knew Master Annelie held council and was organizing the Protectors in their search for Bells. Let Joachim find out for himself, if he was interested in capturing or killing the sorcerer. It wasn’t exactly like he’d shown much concern so far. And that in itself was curious.

Caldan found himself with a few hours to spare. He could have used some sleep, but there was much to do. In the last few days since they’d been at the Protectors’, he’d managed to make progress on his newest automaton. The clockmaker had been true to her word, and her metal parts were of excellent quality. All he’d been left to manufacture were a few smith-crafted metal pieces, and then he’d etched runes over the whole thing. It only lacked a few gems to make it whole.

He hurried to the smith-
crafting
forge, eager to finish his piece and assemble a smaller one he’d also designed, which was far more intricate than any before it.

•

Elpidia gazed at the empty vial in her hand. A thin film of red drained down its sides and began pooling in the bottom. She wiped her lips and swallowed the sticky blood in her mouth. Taking a cup of wine, she drained it and poured another. It was the middle of the day, but what did that matter? She wouldn’t have long left, at this rate.

When she’d gained the courage to examine herself the other day, her scabs had continued to spread. From her neck, they extended down her chest and covered one breast, and the backs of her hands and arms itched terribly. Lately, she hadn’t bothered checking, sure it was too late for her.

Taking a finger, she scraped the inside of the vial clean and placed it in her mouth, sucking the blood as if it were mother’s milk. She grimaced at the thought of what she must look like. That was all that was left to her these days, grim jokes at her own expense, drinking someone else’s blood in the vain hope it was some miracle cure. And waiting… Waiting to die.

Her mice had been useless; a few days wasn’t enough time for the infection to spread through their system, let alone for them to begin showing symptoms. Days… she needed months. Years, possibly. And she didn’t have that luxury.

She’d kept rigorous notes of her experiments in a small book. She wanted to pass them onto Caldan when the time… well, when she knew more experimentation wouldn’t do her any good. He may as well have her research when she was gone.

She wiped at her eyes.
Dust. Too much dust in here.

She latched the door and lit another lamp. She needed the light to see by; nothing would be gained by hiding in the shadows. Turning to the only mirror she could find in this place, a battered old thing the female Protectors used in their bathing area, she shrugged out of her tunic and stood in front of it, eyes closed, fearing the worst.

Her face burned with dread, and her fists clenched painfully tight.

She drew a halting breath. Then another. Then opened her eyes.

Forcing herself to calm, she took a step closer to the mirror. She squinted, puzzled, heart racing in her chest.

What?

She brought a hand up and rubbed a patch of skin below her right breast. Flakes of scab fell off, revealing raw red skin underneath. New skin. Healed skin. It itched still, but it wasn’t a painful itch. She knew this itch well: the itch of mending.

Hardly daring to breathe, she rubbed at more of her scabs, flaky pieces falling to the floor. She was grinning so hard it hurt. She looked into her own eyes, less red and clearer than they’d been for years, then noticed her hair. Her fingers parted strands to the roots, which were growing out darker than normal. Gray replaced with brown.

Elpidia’s legs wobbled, and she slumped to the floor in a half faint. Sitting on the cold stone, she used a hand to steady herself. This wasn’t possible. But of course it was, and hadn’t she worked all these years to cure herself? The reversal had to have begun as soon as she took the first drop of Caldan’s blood.

She lay back on the floor, covered her face with her hands, and wept.

•

“It won’t be long until this is over and Joachim can have the other warlocks heal you,” said Caldan to Miranda, staring at her face, looking for any sign that she’d heard him.

Miranda blinked and tilted her head toward the light streaming through the window, but then returned to her customary stillness.

Caldan sighed. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Soon. I promise. If I have to find Bells and capture her again myself, or if I have to give up my
trinket
s to save you, I will.”

Elpidia burst into the room, door banging against the wall. Her eyes were big and round, and she’d dressed in a hurry, her tunic half-off her shoulder.

“Caldan,” she gasped, holding out another empty vial, presumably for him to fill. “It’s gone. I need more. Please.”

Caldan felt ill as he realized why his blood had been used up so fast. She had drunk most of it herself. “Not now,” he said curtly. “Tomorrow. Maybe.”

Elpidia uttered a short laugh. She looked… relieved?

“It worked. My experiments… They were taking too long. So I… drank it.”

Caldan kept quiet, not trusting himself to speak.

“It was only a drop at first,” Elpidia continued. “Once a day, then a few more. I had to try something.” She was babbling and didn’t look like stopping. “These things take time, and I didn’t have long. I knew it. I was going to die. I had to try something. So I took some, and it worked! See.” She pulled down her shirt, revealing scabbed, patchy red skin. “Look!”