Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (68 page)

He crept to a side door and crafted the lock open, using his chalk to scribe the runes. Inside, it was pitch black, dark enough that he feared bumping into furniture. Patiently, he waited until his eyes adjusted and he could discern vague outlines. As stealthily as he could, he made his way to Joachim’s room.

“By the ancestors,” he cursed.

The room had been ransacked. All of the valuables had been stripped to only leave the furniture, rugs, a few chairs, the desk, bookcases, and a cabinet. They looked empty, a fact he soon confirmed. No doubt these would be next to go, once transportation was arranged. It seemed the Protectors wouldn’t be using the residence; they’d be selling it off.

Maybe the other rooms aren’t stripped yet, thought Caldan. But he knew he’d likely find the same scene. He was about to leave, when something tugged at his awareness. It was so faint, he wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t dark and he wasn’t focusing on using all his senses. A
crafting
, almost imperceptibly vibrating at the edge of his consciousness.

Where was it? He closed his eyes to help himself concentrate. He took two steps forward, then one to the left. It was… under his feet?

Under the rug.

Quickly, he rolled the rug up to reveal a hatch in the floor, a couple of handspans across each side. It surely wasn’t big enough to hide much, but someone had obviously gone to the trouble of making and concealing it under the rug, along with locking it with a
crafting
.

After all his practice, Caldan felt confident he’d be able to get past the crafted lock, and accessed his well, extending his senses. He sucked in a breath. A simple lock had one or two links for strings. The lock in the masters’ library had five. This lock had seven. It had to be Joachim’s. Possibly his most valuable possessions.

But seven strings… Caldan had never stretched himself beyond five before. The very thought made him dizzy as his mind recoiled. It was possible, though, with enough practice. But to extend himself to seven strings now… He’d never know until he tried.

Caldan sat cross-legged on the floor with the locked hatch in front of him. He unlinked from his sorcerous crafted globe, leaving him in total blackness. He breathed deeply, in and out, focusing on his breaths, as the monks had taught him.

One sense at a time, he distanced himself from outside sensations. Underneath him, the hard floor fell away until he felt suspended in the air. He closed his ears to noise, leaving the only sound the reverberation of his own breathing and the pumping of his heart.

Barely thinking, letting the process occur naturally, he accessed his well and split off three strings. Another breath, and he split off one more. Another breath, another string.

Holding five felt almost effortless now. He anchored them to the linking runes on the underside of the hatch. Though they were hidden, he could still feel the space they occupied.

Without conscious thought, he split off a sixth string. His breathing stopped as pressure bored into his mind from all sides. Caldan forced himself to restart breathing, but his breaths came short and fast. The sixth string squirmed in his grasp, and he struggled to hold onto it.

Calm, he chided himself. The pain will lessen. Focus on your well.

For long moments, he sat, forcing himself to regain composure, ignoring the pain in his head. Eventually, his chest loosened and he breathed easier.

A drop of sweat hung from his nose, tickling it, and he wiped it away. Despite the distraction, the six strings didn’t snap back, and he remained in control. Caldan spent the next few moments holding onto the six strings, reinforcing his control. It wouldn’t do to linger now; he could already feel his strength draining rapidly.

He braced himself and, with utmost care, split a seventh string from his well. He gasped as spikes of pain penetrated his mind. He let out a low moan, struggling to maintain his grip on even the original six strings, which had all of a sudden become as slippery as wet eels.

The agony was too much… He couldn’t… He must. For Miranda.

Growling, he clamped onto all seven wriggling strings, refusing to let them slip out of his grasp. Gasping for breath, he forced a linkage with the sixth string. Straining himself to his limits, it was all he could do to push the seventh string to link. But link it did, and the scent of lemons filled the air as the compartment clicked open.

Caldan immediately let the strings absorb back into his well, and as the pressure in his mind eased, he slumped to the floor exhausted.

But he’d done it. Seven strings. His head felt like he’d taken a beating. A warm wetness dribbled from his nose. He sat up and wiped it away. Blood, for certain.

In front of him, the hatch was ajar enough to slide fingers underneath and prize it fully open. Inside was a wooden box small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. There was also a coin pouch. Caldan hefted the coins and looked inside. All gold, at least thirty. Probably Joachim’s getaway stash, in case things went wrong. A different colored gleam caught his eye at the bottom of the pouch. Feeling around, Caldan could discern a few other round objects. He tipped the coins onto the floor, and toward the end, out spilled four deep green gemstones. Emeralds. An unexpected treasure, and enough to keep Miranda well looked after for a long time, should it come to that.

Returning the ducats and gems to the pouch, he turned his attention to the box. It looked like a jewelry box, the kind jewelers used to display their rings and brooches.

Caldan opened it and froze. It contained a
trinket
. A ring, still attached to a finger that had been sawn off at the third knuckle. And recently, too, judging from the early stages of decomposition. Gingerly, he slid the ring from the finger. Blackened skin came away from flesh, and a rotten stench filled his nostrils. He left the finger inside and closed the box, returning it to the hideaway hole and closing the hatch. He covered it with the rug, not bothering to craft the lock closed. His head still ached from unlocking it, and he wasn’t about to attempt seven strings again so soon.

Wishing it didn’t feel like stealing, Caldan secured the
trinket
in his pocket. It belonged to the Protectors, could actually have been owned by one that Joachim had killed, for all he knew. Unknown
trinket
s were dangerous things, best to be wary of. And he had to be fairly certain of its function before experimenting with it. Or he could always sell it. Time to worry about that later.

Blood from Caldan’s nosebleed covered his hands. He wiped them on his pants—he could afford to wash his clothes now—and left the room. A few moments later, he scaled the outside wall and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Forty-One

Amerdan stepped out of his dirty clothes and handed the bathhouse woman the chit he’d paid for earlier. She averted her eyes but cast fleeting, appraising glances at him. His absorbed talents meant he’d developed layers of hard muscle he usually kept hidden under his clothes, a side effect he’d found disturbing at first, then accepted as his due.

“These will be laundered for you and ready tomorrow, sir.”

He sniffed. “There’s no need. I’ve new clothes to change into, and they’re a bit ragged. Do with them what you will.”

The young woman stared at his filthy clothes with surprise. “The cuffs are a little frayed, and they’re only a little mussed. Perhaps—”

“I said take them. They’re of no use to me.”

She kept silent and nodded.

Stupid people. She and the other creatures inhabiting this place weighed on him, along with the dust and grime. He found he missed his shop in Anasoma, which he could keep clean and tidy. An oasis of calm, while the animals dirtied themselves outside his door. He’d told Caldan it had burned down as an excuse to go with him, but it was really his interest in Caldan’s Touched abilities and the power of his well. The fool. Here, though, he couldn’t get clean enough. And he stank of Bells.

Not long now, he told himself.

Leaving the bathhouse woman, he entered the hot baths, making sure he placed his basket of new clothes where he could see them, careful not to touch them with his dirty hands. A young girl left a towel on a stool for him, along with soap and a comb.

“Bring a few more buckets of hot water.”

Amerdan waited until she left then used a ladle to rinse himself with hot water before using the soap. Once he was clean, he wouldn’t soak in the hot baths. The thought of immersing himself in water that had been used by dozens of other people almost made him retch. It was enough he could wash away the rancid grime of the city and feel himself again for a few hours. It would have to do.

The girl appeared carrying two more steaming buckets. She placed them next to the other bucket and stood there, waiting.

“Bring two more.”

The girl left again, and he continued to cleanse himself.

Bells would expect him back soon, and he smiled. She had proved useful. He still hadn’t been able to discern what she was working on, though. This morning, she’d seemed unusually distracted. She’d slotted a few of her
crafting
s together where they clicked into place. With his new found sorcerous abilities, he’d been able to determine it had seven linking runes. Far more than he’d been able to master so far. With Bells’ guidance, he’d managed two strings, but only for a few moments. It annoyed him this was an ability he had to work on, but… the rewards were great. Far greater than he’d imagined.

Again, the girl returned with two buckets.

“That’s all; five is enough.”

She smiled shyly at him and nodded, standing to the side. Waiting.

Amerdan jerked his head, indicating she should leave, and she scurried away. He had paid for one of the best baths in the city, and he knew exactly the services they provided. But he was having none of that. The nobles and merchants that visited here were hardly better than animals rutting in the dirt.

Finally clean to his satisfaction, he dried himself off with the towel. After dressing, he took his friend from the bottom of the basket. Dotty winked at him, and he nodded, placing her inside his clean shirt.

“Come, and let’s see what Bells has been up to.”

•

From a distance, Caldan watched as the Quivers at the gate scanned the people coming into the city for anything untoward. They took a few travelers to one side for questioning, and searched one of them. He suspected it was more to relieve the boredom than anything else.

The sky had lightened and was getting brighter. While he’d remained leaning against a wall for some time, the queue to enter the city had grown, until there were too many people to count. As the sun finally peeked over the hills to the east, and a second squad of Quivers reinforced the first, they opened the other half of the gate to allow more people to enter, and they and their livestock and wagons flooded in.

A line formed to exit the city, but was mostly ignored, and Caldan surreptitiously joined the rear of a group of eight men and women. It wasn’t long before he passed through the gate without incident.

Outside the city walls, makeshift huts and dilapidated dwellings dotted the countryside, occasionally clumping together to form ramshackle communities. Caldan left the group he’d used as cover and hurried down the paved road as fast as he dared. Attracting the attention of the Quivers was the last thing he wanted to do.

Keep calm, and don’t look back.

One hand fingered Bells’ shield
crafting
in his pocket, in case he needed it. But he would only shield himself as a last resort. He had a goal for his trip outside the city, an idea that had come to him when he knew one day soon he’d eventually have to face the emperor’s warlocks, based on how Simmon had hidden the
trinket
sword. It was an ingenious hiding place, but one he’d have a little trouble with in the city. The flow through the aqueducts that brought water to the city’s citizens was sometimes quite strong. A heavy object, like the
trinket
sword, was no problem. But smaller, lighter objects could be washed away with the current.

Caldan traveled down the road, peeling off onto the first well-traveled track he found. It was wide and rutted from wagon wheels, which meant it should lead to a modest village or a substantial farm. Now that he was out of sight of the road, he took his beetle from his pocket and sent it flying ahead, its senses alert for people, and most especially other wells besides his own. The fair-skinned blonde woman who’d taken his bet hadn’t been pleased to see him and his ducats. She’d smiled at him through gritted teeth while marking his debt as discharged and handing over his automaton. He’d been stupid to make a wager in an unfamiliar establishment, and lucky to come away with his
crafting
. He’d bid the woman good day and left her steaming.

Occasionally, Caldan stopped and sat beside the track, sending his senses into the beetle and seeing through its crafted eyes. He couldn’t be too careful this time. As far as he could determine, the bone
trinket
was his only leverage, and if he was found with it in his possession, it meant any advantage he had was lost.

A short time later, he saw what he was looking for: a group of houses clumped together around a communal well made from gray stone blocks and protected with a wooden cover to keep dust and leaves out.

He pulled a fist-sized rock from his satchel. His bone
trinket
was tied to the stone with a leather thong wrapped multiple times around and through the ring. Caldan hesitated then took two kerchiefs from his satchel. Best to be sure it isn’t damaged, he thought. He wrapped the stone with one kerchief, using the other bunched up as a cushion protecting the
trinket
.

Glancing around to see if anyone had noticed, he replaced his satchel strap on his shoulder and continued on toward the houses, which were remarkably quiet. Better for him, he supposed, if no one was around.

Caldan used the well’s crank to wind up a full bucket of water, ostensibly to wash his face and hands and drink his fill. At the same time, he sent his automaton in a circle around the village, then a wider one around the outside. There were no signs of life, not even a dog or chickens. Strange.