Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (67 page)

Activating the wings, he flew back toward his door, before breaking the links to all five of his strings. As his senses snapped back into himself, he heard the beetle clatter to the floor. It should be whole, but he now needed to be quick and couldn’t afford to lose time. Grabbing his satchel, he strode to the door and linked to his unlocking
crafting
. In moments, the lock clicked open. He unlatched the door and slipped into the corridor, the scent of lemons from his
crafting
s on the lock and the beetle wafting through the air.

Caldan cast a quick glance at the stairwell to see the guards were still out of sight. He relocked the door and scooped up his beetle. He raced down the stairs at the other end and into the Protectors’ courtyard.

The gate to the compound was locked, as he’d suspected. But as he scaled a side wall, using a rain barrel to boost himself up, he couldn’t help himself and broke into a grin. He landed on the cobblestones outside and strode as casually as he could toward the city gates to the south. At this time of night, traffic coming into and out of the city was scarcer, and he’d be more noticeable. Best to wait for dawn when the farmers and traders were queued up to enter, and he’d be able to slip out without being remarked upon.

Amerdan would have to wait, and so would Bells. She was likely to be found by the Protectors or the emperor’s warlocks, who were on their way. And he didn’t want to be around when they arrived. To deal with the warlocks, he needed a plan. He had no illusions about them. He’d be looked at as a resource, if he wasn’t killed straight away. He needed to make himself more valuable, and that’s what he intended to do. How, he didn’t know yet.

•

Caldan woke to a dim room, and it took him a while to realize where he was. Sitting on the edge of his rickety bed, he scratched at a few places that itched from the old bedding, and hoped it wasn’t lice or bed bugs. Lines of sunlight streamed in through gaps in the window’s shutters. From outside somewhere, a rooster crowed, and below his window, two men were arguing.

He yawned and opened the shutters, breathing in the air of Riversedge, redolent with unwashed bodies, smoke, and effluent. Curiously similar to Anasoma’s, and yet subtly different.

He’d made as much distance from the Protectors’ as he could before dawn, finding a rundown hostel close to the south gates of the city. His room was cramped and dusty, and the window didn’t even have cheap glass installed. It was all he could afford for the time being, but that didn’t matter to him. What he’d needed after his escape was some sleep and a place to stay where no one would ask questions.

With coin pouch woefully empty, he only had one option: winning enough ducats wagering on Dominion to replenish his reserves. Or to win some games himself. Selling some
crafting
s to the clockmaker was out of the question; he was sure he’d mentioned her to a few of the Protectors, perhaps to Master Mold as well. They’d be watching her and would have pressured her to report to them if he made contact. But playing a few games of Dominion for ducats would mean exposing himself for hours on end—not a bright thing to do, especially if any of the Protectors were out for a night of gaming and happened to recognize him.

The smartest option was only to bet on games he was sure he knew the outcome of. He’d stay relatively out of sight, away from the scrutiny of the onlookers, who would be all the more curious about a new, skilled player.

That was his plan, then. He’d take a leaf out of Izak’s book and make some ducats that way, with less alcohol involved, of course. Then he’d make enough to see to Miranda’s care for the foreseeable future, while he came up with a strategy to approach the warlocks.

His hand moved to touch the bone ring through his shirt. As a
trinket
that wasn’t made from the unique silvery alloy other
trinket
s were, its value was beyond measure. As a bargaining chip, it would hold quite some sway, possibly enough for him to demand whatever he wanted. But if he traded it away for Miranda, he wouldn’t know why his parents had it in their possession, or why they had been killed.

Caldan’s stomach growled, and he fished one of his last few ducats from his pouch. Food first, then remain out of sight in his room for the day until the evening, when the more affluent Dominion clubs opened. At least he had his books on coercive sorcery to keep him occupied until then. He left his room and went downstairs in search of breakfast.

•

Caldan watched the fair-skinned, slender, blonde woman who was taking bets, keeping a keen eye on the Dominion games in progress. She was trailed by a young boy and girl, who barely reached her shoulder. Each of the youngsters carried a wooden board onto which were clipped stacks of small squares of paper and a thin-necked ink bottle, to minimize spillage. Each of the bets she confirmed, they scratched onto two squares, one for the person proposing the wager, and one for the blonde woman. And she wasn’t the only one engaged in the activity; around the room weaved two others just like her, each trailing two assistants. They made circuits of the tables, careful not to catch up to their colleague in front of them. When a bet was reckoned, they scrawled something on the slip of paper, which was then taken to one of the two cashiers close to the entrance, and each of these was guarded by two huge, angry-looking men bristling with knives. It wasn’t a perfect system, and Caldan could see a number of ways of not paying up if you lost, but he guessed it worked well enough.

So far, he’d kept to the edges of the room, where the shadows were darker and he was less likely to be noticed. Groups of people, from pairs to five or six, also gathered close to the walls, mostly nobles and merchants engaged in hushed conversations, whispers and furtive looks. Some stared daggers at each other, but despite the obvious hatred, that was as far as it went. He decided this Dominion house was also a meeting place for those who wanted to conduct business deals and size up their opposition, a neutral venue with an informal truce in place. A number of nobles and well-dressed merchants passed by him, eyeing his clothes and bearing before continuing on, which was well and good; he was unremarkable enough to avoid their interest.

So far, he’d made a single wager on one of the smaller games, all his remaining ducats on a certain victory by a noble woman. It hadn’t netted him much in return, a few silver ducats from the low odds, but he had to start somewhere. At this rate, he’d have to come back every night for a few weeks to win enough ducats to cover all his needs. It was irritating, and his thoughts kept returning to playing a few games himself, but it was too risky, and he didn’t have many ducats to wager yet, anyway. It just wasn’t worth it.

One of the Dominion matches in progress caught his eye. Entering the second half, the boards were a tangled mess, and it looked to be anyone’s game. But he could see one player, a sallow-faced man, was positioning himself well, making every move count, while his opponent’s moves were less effective. Oh, they’d look well thought out to the average Dominion player, aggregating and consolidating his positions, but ultimately they’d prove his downfall. Caldan recognized some of the sallow-faced man’s defense and attack groups from a number of famous games from the past he’d studied, so the man must know what he was about. And indeed, his next few moves proved the result was beyond doubt, though those around the board hardly seemed to recognize it.

The fair-skinned blonde woman and her assistants paused close to the game to exchange pleasantries with an older man, who he assumed was one of the regulars. Caldan took the opportunity to approach them.

“Excuse me,” he said, interrupting the woman. “My apologies, but I’d like to make a wager on this match here.”

The woman glanced at him before turning to the man she’d been talking to. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.” The man stepped away and returned to watching the game in progress.

She smiled then turned to study the board for a few moments before speaking. “Three to two for either player,” she stated, then pursed her lips, waiting from him.

Caldan fingered his meager supply of ducats in his pouch, then rubbed his thumb over his
trinket
ring.

Dare he risk it? He trusted his judgement of the game, but still… it was a lot to lose. No, his ring was too valuable for him to risk in any wager.

“I’d like to wager something of value rather than ducats.” He produced his smith-crafted beetle from his pocket and placed it on one of her assistants’ wooden tablets. Even in the low light away from the Dominion sets, its metallic carapace shone, causing the minuscule
crafting
runes to stand out in contrast. “It’s a sorcerous crafted beetle.”

“Really?” drawled the woman. “It looks pretty, but I’ve seen mechanical contraptions just like it. I’d put its worth at say… one gold ducat.”

Caldan snorted. One gold ducat was a third of its worth, even if it had only been a wind-up mechanical novelty. “I think you know it’s worth far more than that.”

He opened his well and linked multiple strings to the beetle, making it crawl around the wooden board. The girl holding it gasped in surprise, while the woman’s eyes widened. He activated the beetle’s shield, at a low level, enough to have the multicolored haze cover the carapace for a brief moment.

“What was that?” exclaimed the woman.

“Sorcery. As I said, it’s a crafted sorcerous beetle.”

“Very well, two gold ducats, then.” She licked her lips and eyed the beetle.

Caldan clenched his mouth shut to prevent himself from laughing, then realized she was serious. And why wouldn’t she be? He’d come begging to her without enough ducats to make a decent wager. To her, he was desperate, and desperate people did stupid things, just like he had to.

“Agreed,” he said reluctantly. “On the sallow-faced man there to win.”

“That’s Lord Loubster to you.” She nodded to the girl, and the youngster began scribbling on a square of paper.

“Ah, excuse me, that’s mine,” exclaimed Caldan as the woman picked up his beetle.

“In situations like these, the house retains the collateral until the wager is decided.”

It figured. “And if I lose?” It seemed like a good question to ask.

“You have a day to come up with the two gold ducats you lost in return for the collateral, otherwise the house gets to retain whatever was offered as assurance, no matter its value.”

Caldan nodded. His options were limited.

The girl handed him a piece of paper, and he took it.

The woman gave him a wide smile. “I’ll be seeing you later, then.”

All three moved off to another gentleman, who had been waiting impatiently to the side.

Caldan watched the game with renewed interest, and with a fair amount of trepidation. A short while later, he saw the girl assistant who’d handed him his wagering slip approach Lord Loubster, exchanging a few words with him before wandering away.

Loubster looked around nervously before returning his attention to the match, arousing Caldan’s suspicions. From then on, the noble’s moves weren’t quite at the same level of competence as they’d been previously. He made a number of glaring errors, looking chagrined at the derogatory remarks directed his way from the onlookers, but waved away their concerns with an offhand comment.

Caldan’s stomach churned when Loubster made two moves that were brilliant in their stupidity. He doubted anyone else realized, but he’d just lost the match, since his moves were cunningly disguised as defensive, but that’s exactly what the lord had done: deliberately lost the match. When Loubster stood and, red-faced, admitted defeat, everyone around his table was none the wiser.

Except Caldan. He clenched his fists, and his nails dug into the palms of his hands. He’d been had. The woman who’d taken his wager had conspired with the house and Loubster to throw the game. His crafted beetle must have been more valuable than he thought, for all the good it would do them.

Caldan approached the woman, fixing his mouth into a weak smile.

“Bad luck,” she said, tone dripping commiseration.

“Yes.” Caldan found he had to pause and take a deep breath before continuing. He could sense the beetle in her belt pouch. Even if he linked to it, it wouldn’t be able to get free. And making a scene in the packed room would get him noticed, which was the last thing he wanted. “So, I have a day to return with two gold ducats?”

“That you do. I’ll be here tomorrow night. You can see me when you have the coin.”

She knew very well he didn’t have any ducats and most likely had no way to obtain two golds before tomorrow night.

“I’ll see you then,” said Caldan through clenched teeth.

He left the woman standing there and exited the building, blood boiling in his veins, face hot. It was late at night, and he couldn’t think of any way out of his situation other than one, unpalatable, risky venture.

But there was no helping it. He wasn’t going to let the woman get away with stealing his
crafting
, and his hopes of using Dominion to replenish his ducats wasn’t working as well as he’d wished.

He made his way through back alleys and narrow streets to the building Joachim had imprisoned him in. There was a Protector guarding the iron gate, but there were no lights on inside. It was too valuable a building to give up, and as he’d guessed, the Protectors would hold onto it to sell later or use as another of their outposts scattered around the city. And if that was their plan, they might have left quite a few valuable items inside, possibly even all the ducats. With luck, that is. And he hadn’t been lucky tonight so far.

•

Skirting a wall darkened in shadow, he ducked into a side alley and looked up. The top of the wall was a yard higher than his extended reach, but with a running jump…

Caldan’s hands grasped the brickwork, and he pulled himself up and over the other side, dangling by his fingers then dropping to the ground. Crouching low, he scanned the courtyard for signs he’d been seen. There was no hue and cry, and the Protector near the gate was now sitting on a stool and covering a yawn with one hand.