Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (66 page)

He urged his mount toward it and swung his blade down… only to miss the jukari entirely as it dodged. It snarled through a mouthful of pointy teeth, claws from its free hand gouging his thigh. Pain and blood erupted from his leg. It raised its sword high over its head. Vasile drove his mount into the beast, knocking it off balance. As the blade sliced down, he parried it to the side. His horse reared, frightened by the blood and the stench of the jukari. Vasile clung to the animal, sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched the saddle with his only good hand. It crashed down on the jukari, hooves striking its head and chest with a thud. A crack of breaking bones sounded. The monster crumpled to the ground, yowling in agony. The horse reared again and slammed down onto the jukari, silencing its cries of pain, then shied away.

Vasile slid from the saddle and groped in the dirt for his sword. Risking a glance, he saw cel Rau had his jukari well in hand. It bled from multiple cuts to its legs, arms, and face.

He stumbled to his prone jukari and plunged his blade into its chest. It coughed up blood and spit, and stared at him with hatred, brown eyes wide. The dark liquid dripped from its mouth, and it hissed at him through stained teeth. Vasile withdrew his blade and plunged it deep again, and again, until it was still.

Gasping for breath, he turned to cel Rau. The swordsman noticed his fight was over and stepped inside the reach of his jukari’s long arms. He sprung from the ground, using the jukari’s own knee to boost him up. With one swift thrust, he buried a sword into the creature’s heart through its armpit.

As the jukari moaned and scrabbled on the ground, lifeblood leaking out, cel Rau turned and left it lying there.

“So far, that’s four to me and one to you, Magistrate. You’ve some catching up to do.”

Despite himself, Vasile couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter Forty

Caldan held his breath as the physiker opened the door and stepped outside the room. He settled back in his chair, affecting a nonchalant look, but his insides clenched as he waited to see if the physiker was successful.

Muffled voices came through the door—the physiker’s and one of his guards. He could almost make out some words as she raised her voice. A few moments later, the door opened, and she came back inside, shaking her head.

“Idiots,” the physiker muttered. She looked at Caldan. “The guards can’t make any decisions. But don’t worry. One of them has gone to find out what to do.”

“So, we wait, then.”

“Yes.” The physiker moved to Miranda and busied herself packing up her things. Small vials and instruments went into a leather kit similar to Elpidia’s.

Caldan’s throat tightened and his eyes began to burn. He blinked rapidly. Elpidia. He clenched his hands into fists until his knuckles ached. Amerdan would pay for killing her.

“I’m doing this because she does need better treatment than what I can provide here on my own. She’s wasting away, poor thing.”

Caldan nodded glumly. “I know. I thought they’d be able to help her, but they can’t, or won’t.”

The physiker’s eyes hardened at his words, and she sniffed. “I’ll arrange for her to be put up in the hospice I mentioned. You just have to make sure her treatment continues to be paid for, either at the hospice, or you can give me the ducats. I can be trusted.”

“I know,” replied Caldan with a smile. “You’ve done well by Miranda, so far. I won’t be able to see her for a few days, at least. Can you make time to look in on her until I take over?”

“Of course, but—”

She broke off as the door opened and the two guards entered along with a master Caldan hadn’t seen before, a young woman with curly brown hair. Her gaze traveled over him before returning to the physiker. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

“This woman is wasting away. She needs better care than I can give her by turning up here a few times a day. I’d like to move her to a hospice close by.” The physiker’s tone implied it was a reasonable request.

“Let me see her, then.”

The master examined Miranda, while the physiker continued to argue with her and answer her questions. No, she wasn’t able to eat much. Yes, she still drank water but not enough. She required a treatment of massages and manipulation to prevent muscle wasting. No, she couldn’t keep traipsing from her business to here and back again constantly, she was losing customers. The questions seemed to go on for far too long before the master eventually nodded her agreement.

“Good,” the physiker said. “You two guards can bring her downstairs. But before you do that, make sure a wagon is ready. Go on.” She shooed them away with one hand.

They looked to the master for permission, which she gave, then left the room.

It wasn’t long before they were back and the physiker was directing them to lift and carry Miranda. Her eyes flicked to Caldan on the way out, and he nodded his thanks.

As the door closed and the lock clicked, he removed his second crafted automaton from his satchel and placed it on his palm. It looked delicate, so thin was the brass that comprised its body and wings. It was made in the same way as one of the songbirds the clockmaker in Anasoma had shown him, that flapped wings and broke out in song, beak opening and closing when wound up with a key. But this beetle was different, and covered in minuscule
crafting
runes, the smallest Caldan could manage with the magnifying glass and slender pen the clockmaker had provided him.

Caldan had taken what he’d learnt from both clockmakers, Bells’
crafting
s, and his own knowledge and combined it all into this creation. Two round moonstones made up its eyes—the best gems he could afford, and inferior to what he wanted, but he had to make do the best he could. When he had more funds, he’d replace them.

Sitting cross-legged on Miranda’s bed, he could feel the warmth where she’d lain, and he missed her already. He regretted not spending more time with her in Anasoma. He was slow to realize she meant more to him than just a friend.

He put the crafted beetle, along with the
crafting
s he’d taken from Bells and the Bleeder, on the blanket in front of him. He had an escape plan, but something told him there might be a better alternative, and he was sure if he knew what all of the
crafting
s did, then he’d stand a better chance of success.

He glanced out the window. It was already dark, and he had a lot of planning to do and not much time to do it in.

•

Dark and slippery, the polished wooden floor could have proved his downfall, but the tiny spikes crafted into metal legs and feet were its equal. His view from the floor was at first unsettling, then almost natural once he was used to the perspective. He scuttled around the room, getting used to his new vision and hearing. Sounds he would barely have noticed before were obvious; vibrations traveled through the floor and up his legs, gathered by the
crafting
runes he’d imbued on the inside of the beetle’s shell. Ahead of him, the floorboards receded like an immense flat plain, abruptly stopping at a vertical wall, which loomed like a gigantic cliff.

Caldan split his well into another two strings then attached them to the anchoring runes inked on the beetle’s carapace. One thing he’d decided early on was that, for his personal
crafting
s, he’d be wise to make them inoperable to sorcerers who couldn’t split their wells into multiple strings. He’d designed the beetle automaton to require at least three strings, and that was only for movement, hearing and sight. Two more strings were required for its shield and wings. He’d added a sixth and seventh just in case. Once he’d mastered more than five strings, he was sure he’d be able to find a use for them.

It was an overcomplicated design, but one that meant very few sorcerers would be able to wrest control of his smith-crafted automaton from him, and he’d likely be able to retaliate against them before they did. While he was fine-tuning his schematic, he’d remembered the scratching and scrabbling at his linkage when they were escaping from Anasoma. Bells or Keys, he wasn’t sure which, trying to push him out and assume control of his creature. At five strings, he’d be stretched thin, but he was sure the complication would go a fair way to preventing appropriation of his control, at least by anyone less than an extremely skilled master sorcerer. And if he was facing someone that skilled, then he had bigger problems than just command over his creation.

He needed to get away from the Protectors. Bells was still on the loose, and Amerdan was out there, somewhere—a man who likely had some answers to his questions about being Touched, and who had to be brought to justice for what he’d done to Elpidia. All he had to do was find them.

Caldan looked across the floor toward the door, through the gemstone eyes of his beetle. As far as he could tell, it was an hour after midnight. He’d blown out the lamp some time ago and secured his crafted sorcerous globe in his satchel, along with all his possessions. He wanted the guards outside to think he was fast asleep, and though he’d been experimenting with his automaton, he’d done it in the dark.

Looking at the expanse of floor between him and the door, Caldan snorted to himself, then broke his links to the beetle. He moaned quietly as his vision blurred and his ears rang. His senses rebelled for a few moments when they snapped back to normal, and he had to breathe deeply before a slight dizziness subsided.

Standing, he picked up the beetle then crept stealthily to the door and placed it on the floor. Much better. He wouldn’t have to scrabble over what would have felt like miles of floor first. And he needed to do something to the door before he began anyway.

With his chalk, he marked around the lock with runes, as slowly as he could. It wouldn’t do to alert the guards something was up, not when he had taken such pains to put them at ease.

Back at his chair, he sat and rubbed his temples. His head ached already from the time he’d spent familiarizing himself with moving the beetle, all done with his well split into five strings. Five wasn’t necessary for just moving around, but he needed the practice. And if he wanted to be able to hold six or more strings, he had to build his strength and control, and wanted to take any opportunity to do so.

Caldan licked his lips and settled himself into the chair. His palms were damp, and he wiped them on his pants. Now wasn’t the time for second thoughts. He closed his eyes and split his well into five strings, taking control of the beetle’s movement, sight and hearing, wings and shield.

His vision contracted, and at the same time everything took on immense proportions. The door overshadowed him; a faint light bathed the floor ahead, coming from the crack underneath. Just wide enough for his metallic beetle to slip under.

He moved forward until the door was above him and he could see the corridor. One guard was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, arms propped up on his knees, with his head resting on them. The other was sitting across from him, playing a solo game of cards with the deck spread out on the floor.

They must be taking turns to sleep, thought Caldan. That could make it even trickier, as he didn’t want to hurt anyone. In fact, his plan involved him disappearing without anyone being the wiser. That would give him until at least dawn to put some distance between him and the Protectors.

He moved the beetle out from under the door, and it crept along the floor toward the stairway at the end. He kept it to the edge of the wall, where it was less likely he’d be seen. So far, the guard was too engrossed in his game to notice.

The end of the corridor looked a long, long way from here, and at this rate it could take a while to reach the stairway. There was only one way to hurry this up, and he needed to. The more time he had before they discovered he was gone, the greater the chance he had of eluding capture again.

Clenching his teeth with the strain, Caldan kept the beetle moving, while unfolding its wings. He triggered them to action, and an immense buzzing filled his ears, overpowering any other noise. He felt the strain leave the creature’s legs as it lifted off the floor, then cursed and almost lost control as it careened into a wall. He regained control, the corridor flashing past as he kept low, for fear of losing direction and crashing. As the corridor ended and the stairway appeared, he reduced power to the wings and skidded along the floor. Hastily, he refolded the wings lest they were damaged and used the beetle’s spiked legs to decelerate.

With the deafening buzzing of the wings gone, he kept the creature still and extended his senses, turning the beetle to look back down the corridor.

The guard had stopped playing cards and was looking toward him, searching the darkness. He shook his head then went back to his game. Caldan let out the breath he’d been holding.

He moved the beetle to the top of the stairs and opened its carapace. Out dropped a small sorcerous crafted globe, as yet unlit. He nudged it toward the stairs. It balanced on the edge of the top stair, and Caldan gave it a final push. Immediately, he broke the string from the anchor controlling the wings and linked to the globe, activating the
crafting
.

Light flooded the stairwell, momentarily blinding him. His enhanced hearing picked up the globe as it dropped to the next stair and rolled toward the edge. With a plunk, it fell to the second stair. Then the third. Its momentum threw up moving shadows across the walls as it tumbled down the stairs.

An exclamation came from behind him. He turned the beetle to see the guard wake his companion and move toward him. Trailing a few steps came the second guard, rubbing his eyes. Both had their swords drawn, and he could sense they’d opened their wells. As Caldan had planned, the light and noise had startled the guards and they were coming to investigate, leaving his door unguarded.

The sorcerous globe continued tumbling down the stairs and hit the floor at the bottom, where it rolled out of his sight.

Boots thudded toward him, and for a brief moment Caldan cringed as they came perilously close to crushing him. Luck was on his side, and they missed the beetle by a whisker, pausing at the top of the stairs before descending cautiously.