Darkvision (17 page)

“It is a mineral whose nature is quite strange,” Prince Monolith finally stated. “It appears to be the sort of encrustation that might occur along the edges of an … expanding demiplane.”

“Demiplane!” exclaimed Kiril. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, the contents of her flask still bitter in her mouth.

“Yes,” said Monolith. The earth lord pivoted to face east, the direction they’d been traveling, toward Adama’s Tooth. “I sense some resonance with the crystal in that direction.

“But …” Monolith slowly pivoted again until he faced north, toward the line of mountains whose foothills they were already traversing. “… the largest, most malignant intrusion of this putrid crystal into the orb lies on the surface, that way.”

“East is the way to Adama’s Tooth, not north!” exclaimed Kiril.

Monolith shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “I believe you should reconsider your destination, lest you fail to find the true author of your misfortune and it instead eliminates you.”

“North lies Raurin, the Dust Desert. Certain death for any who are not desert-born. Or so I’ve heard,” observed Thormud.

“That may well be. But the infection has its true source to the north.”

The dwarf nodded. “North it is.”

Kiril said, “Thormud, we’re so close to Adama’s Tooth. We should mop up whatever’s brewing there, then head north afterward.”

“I can lead you directly to the infection’s source in Raurin,” interjected Prince Monolith. “If you follow me, I will overstay the limits of our original pact. I will aid you until the infection is cut away from the orb, or until my ultimate destruction.”

Kiril paused in her protest, considering. In her experience, the amount of time that elementals even half as powerful as Prince Monolith persisted was usually counted in heartbeats, never days.

“Prince Monolith,” responded Thormud, “your generosity, as usual, is without bound. We accept your kind offer. Please lead us north and help us heal the earth of this wound.”

“I will.”

“Great,” muttered Kiril. “Let’s head blindly north, into the desert. Sounds like a dripping great idea.”

Being a practical elf, she knew that investigating the nearer Adama’s Tooth was still a better idea, all else being equal. Even if it wasn’t the primary source of these blood-damned crystals, discovering whatever lay within the rock could provide clues about the nature of the disturbance in Raurin—clues that might help them prepare to meet a completely unknown threat. Perhaps even the kind of clue that would prove the difference between their success or ultimate failure.

She shrugged. “What about this crystal? Is it dead now?” wondered the swordswoman.

Thormud stepped closer, pointed his selenite rod at it, and uttered a sharp word. The crystal began to tremble as if it convulsed with a shiver of ever-increasing frequency. A heartbeat later, it shattered into ineffectual dust.

“Yes,” said the dwarf.

Kiril smiled. That smile faded as she observed the old dwarf walking away, his steps unsteady, and perspiration on his brow.

Her employer wasn’t well.

After the rest of the family departed from the meeting, Warian’s eyes were drawn to the carts stacked with delicacies. He hated to see good food go to waste. Time for an impromptu feast.

Warian was poking away at a plate of pickled mushrooms when Zel popped into the room. His uncle began to heap a plate with delicacies. Warian ignored him.

Zel reached for the platter of pickled mushrooms. Without turning his head, he whispered, “Eined got out of Vaelan earlier today.”

“What?”

“I had agents watching the docks. Turns out Xaemar has people searching for Eined, too, but she’s got herself some allies. They took ship and departed. A regular seafaring ship. Anyway, she’s safe.”

“Where’d she go? Who was with her?”

Zel shrugged. “Sounds like she may be heading out to see Shaddon.”

Warian paused. He’d decided to refuse a trip to the mine site, despite Xaemar’s order—or rather, because of it. But if Eined was headed for the Tooth, then he would follow. In the skyship, he’d probably get there ahead of her. He grinned. Relief flooded him. He couldn’t wait to see his sister again and catch up on family gossip.

The mountain-bounded wizard state far to the west called Halruaa was famous for its gold mines, its fiery wine, and most of all, its vessels that sailed on air instead of water.

The wizards of Halruaa jealously guarded the secret of skyship manufacture, keeping the advantages of air travel for Halruaa alone. But like all national treasures, an adequate sum of cash deposited into the proper pocket was sufficient to temporarily suspend Halruaan law, long enough for wealthy entrepreneurs across the Shining South to pay for and receive one or more custom-built Halruaan skyships.

The Datharathi family was nothing if not wealthy. It secured three skyships for its personal use.

The Datharathis used their precious skyships only for urgent business, and then only if a family member was aboard. Warian had ridden a family skyship on several occasions before he’d fled Vaelan. Of all the things he’d left behind, he most missed the thrill of sailing the sky.

Despite Warian’s protests at leaving Vaelan so soon after arriving, he was excited to be aloft again. Only one thing soured the trip—Warian wished for one less Datharathi passenger.

Aunt Sevaera had boarded at the last moment. He disliked the woman at least as much as he disliked the rest of the family elders. No, he realized, he had a particular dislike for Sevaera. He hated the way she sometimes slathered him with her unearned motherly-but-paper-thin concern. He saw right through her facade. She did it hoping to find one more lever to influence him.

Warian stood at the skyship’s railing as it lifted up and away from the broad platter of twinkling lights below. He’d been in Vaelan for only a few days. But he was certain that Shaddon had the answers he sought concerning his arm. His grandfather would know how to regulate the newfound power that Warian could sometimes trigger. He hoped he could enjoy the arm’s heightened ability at a moderate, steady level rather than the all-or-nothing explosion of energy he had experienced, an expenditure that left him so drained he feared death would follow overuse.

A cool wind, comfortable after the day’s heat, brushed his face as he watched Vaelan fall away. The vast, dark gulf of the Golden Water was not so golden after the sun had fallen well below the horizon. They’d reach the mine by morning—Adama’s Tooth. That was where Warian had been fitted with his prosthesis.

Warian shifted his gaze away from the vista and back toward the deck. He’d ridden this skyship, called Stormsailer, before. Stormsailer’s architecture was like a standard sailing vessel, and her crew was similar. Three masts, square sailed, rose above him, reaching for the stars. The main difference between the skyship and a regular watercraft were the plates affixed beneath the ship, carved from the shells of Halruaan sea turtles and invested with Halruaan spells that produced extraordinary lift.

The crew saw to the needs of the ship under the direction of Captain Darsson, a Halruaan native with experience in wizardry—enough experience to control the ship.

The deck was quiet, and Sevaera was nowhere to be seen. She’d apparently slipped off to her cabin while Warian had engrossed himself with the ship’s launch. Good.

He turned back to the bow and watched the receding lights along the coast of the Golden Water. The stars were bright, but washed out by a bright moon to port. Ahead, moonlight was smothered in a layer of roiling thunderheads. He’d seen the great clouds on the horizon before the sun sank. Somewhere ahead, a mighty storm raged.

The wind picked up abruptly, slapping Warian’s face. Cool and refreshing earlier, it turned cruel and biting.

Warian stepped away from the bow and headed for his cabin on the port.

The cabins on Stormsailer set aside for Datharathi family members were fitted with great glass portholes that offered a spectacular exterior view—nearly as good as the view from the deck railing. The cabins had the added advantage of being heated.

Warian’s cabin was directly across from Sevaera’s. Her door was closed, but he saw light leaking beneath it and heard the tinkling notes of her harp. His aunt loved to play, but had never been as good as she supposed. Warian was surprised at the proficiency and grace of the music he heard. His aunt had improved a lot in five years. He wondered if it was due to practice or her plangent upgrade. Probably the latter.

Strange. His own door was closed, as he’d left it, but no light spilled beneath it. When he’d dropped off his pack, he’d lit a lantern and left it burning precisely so he wouldn’t have to return to a dark cabin. At least, he thought he had. Maybe the oil was used up?

Warian pushed the door open and entered. Moonlight streamed in through the wide porthole, giving him more than enough light to maneuver through the tight space. Even though he had just been on deck, he walked directly to the porthole and gazed out.

The moonlight rippled across the otherwise dark plane of water below. From this vantage, he couldn’t see the shoreline at all. In fact…

The door creaked behind him and gently snicked shut. Warian swung around and saw someone standing inside his cabin.

“Hey!” Warian yelled, startled.

“Shush!” whispered the figure urgently. Warian saw a moonlit hand touch the intruder’s lips, urging quiet.

“You’d better …”

“I said keep quiet, Nephew,” the voice said, louder. It was a familiar voice.

“Zel?” asked Warian, incredulity prodding him off-balance.

“None other. I’ll thank you if you don’t say that again so loudly.”

“Why?”

“Has your absence made you thick?” his uncle whispered. “No one knows I’m on board. I aim to keep it that way.”

“You outrank her—Sevaera, I mean—in the family council. I don’t understand. Surely you don’t have to hide from her.” Disdain curdled Warian’s voice as he said his aunt’s name.

“You’ve been gone a long time, Nephew. New ways for new days—things have changed in the family council. I occupy a rung only one up from your missing sister Eined. Come to think of it, you’re probably higher than me.”

“That’s crazy.” Warian moved forward and pulled a burning coal from an iron pot below the lamp to relight the wick. Only the finest accoutrements for House Datharathi’s private skyship, after all.

“Is it? You have a crystal prosthesis. You’re no plangent, true enough, but in the eyes of the others, you’re more like them than not.”

“Only plangents can wield power in the family business?”

Zeltaebar nodded.

“Then why don’t you take the implant?”

“Because something’s wrong. I wouldn’t take that crystal into my body if you paid me my life trust in one payment.”

Warian was surprised. For Zel to walk away from money and power, the reason would have to be spectacular. Warian had left behind his own trust for ideological reasons, but in his experience, Zel was less principled. In fact, he had always felt that his uncle was motivated primarily by money. Personal danger was only one more calculation in Zel’s balance sheet of life.

“Wait. If you think something’s wrong with the plangents, why were you hunting Eined to force her into the procedure?” Warian demanded.

Zel’s hands went up in a placatory gesture. “Hold on, hold on. I wasn’t going to turn her in, you numbskull!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! When I found her, I planned on fleeing the city with her. I wouldn’t force the crystal on my own blood kin, for doom’s sake!”

“But she’s going to the site, right? That’s what you told me at the meeting today,” Warian accused.

Zel smirked and nodded, but held up a hand again. “You’re a smart kid, Warian. I know you have more going on up there than the rest of the family gives you credit for. Plus, you seem to be half plangent. You have their strength and speed, maybe even more than they do, from what my boys said…”

“Only when it’s triggered, and then it drains me near to death,” Warian interrupted.

“Sure, sure—but you get to access the good stuff, without the downsides I’ve noticed.” Zel cast his eyes to the floor.

Warian waited a moment, then said, “Please, go on. I know you love center stage, Uncle.”

Zel smiled his agreement and continued. “It’s nothing definite—just circumstantial events, and weird feelings I sometimes get when I talk to my brother or sister. We all were pretty close growing up. Of course, we grew apart as adults—we each fell into the role that best suited us in Datharathi Minerals. But I’ve known Xaemar and Sevaera since we all toddled to nursery school together. And ever since they’ve taken the crystal, they’ve been different.”

“Better, you mean?”

“Yes, but also …” he cleared his throat. “Every so often, I’ll be talking to one of them, and out of the blue I feel like I’m talking to someone else. The same someone else—every time, and with both of them. And I tell you what. Whoever that someone is, he seems a right bastard.”

“Have you ever called this ‘other’ out on its supposed presence—told it you knew it was there?” wondered Warian.

“Almost. Right after the family meeting today. I found Xaemar to get his signature on a requisition. As we spoke, he changed. I looked up and saw a darkness—a hunger behind his eyes that made my skin crawl. It seemed unholy. I said, ‘Brother, what’s got you so excited?’ He just laughed. I pretty much ran out of there. His laughter chased me.

“When I got that report about Eined’s escape, I sneaked up to the roof and stowed aboard. I never want to see what lives inside my brother again.”

“Sounds sort of crazy, Uncle. But now that you mention it, I did notice everyone acted a little strange at the meeting—more thoughtful than their usual charge-ahead style. Maybe it’s just another malfunction, like my arm, but psychological.”

“Maybe,” said Zel, doubtfully.

“Well, we’ll talk to Shaddon about this tomorrow. He’s the lead on the plangent project. He’ll help me repair my arm, and maybe he can calm your fears about your siblings.”

“Or confirm them.”