Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (58 page)

“I have nearly finished packing, milord,” the girl
claimed, a tremor in her voice.

She was one of the pretty ones he had allowed to share
his bed, though he had not bothered putting a name to her. She was clearly ill
at ease about something, and he had not recalled her being so timid when last
she was in his room.

“Why are you disturbing my belongings?” Jinzan
demanded.

“The … The goblins are preparing to leave. I assumed …
you would be departing with them. I was helping you pack. I … wanted to repay
your … kindness,” she finished quietly, starting to sob.

Jinzan had indeed made a habit of seeing that the
manor staff were treated well, even if many of them had been pressed into
service from other backgrounds and knew little of their assigned work. The
goblins cared little either way, and Jinzan got much more … cooperation than he
would have otherwise as a tyrant. He was suspicious of her motives nonetheless.

“Step aside, girl,” he barked at her and then swept
her out of his way as he ripped open the pack and began removing its contents.

He found what he was looking for buried near the
bottom of the folded clothing: a pair of scroll cases. He popped the end of one
and was satisfied that its contents were intact. As he was opening the other,
his aether-sense felt the girl moving for the door behind him. He whirled
suddenly and caught her by the wrist as she tried to bolt.

“What have we here?” He grabbed her hand, now clenched
in a fist, and pried it open. There were slight ink stains on her fingers, no
doubt from the documents he had just inspected. “Curious, were we? What were
you looking for in my belongings?”

Without warning, a plume of fire in front of his face
startled Jinzan. Stumbling backward, singed but not otherwise injured, Jinzan
lost his grip on the chambermaid, who made her escape out of the bedroom door.
Feeling his face briefly to make sure he still had everything he began the day
with, he found only eyebrows to be lacking. Other than that one omission, his
face felt as if he had been in the sun too long but not bleeding or weeping as
a severe burn might.

Thus satisfied, he took off after the chambermaid. She
was half his age and had a head start, but he liked his odds. He had real
magic—not like her feeble attempt at firehurling—and an entire city full of
goblins on his side.

As he reached the hallway, he shouted, “Stop that
girl!” then corrected himself and hoarsely crackled [Stop that girl!] in goblin
speech, nearly choking himself in the process. He hated speaking the worthless
language even at a conversational volume, but shouting was more than his voice
could bear. Still, the nearest goblins began to give chase and spread the
alarm. [Alive!] he added, almost not bothering due to the trouble of giving the
order loudly enough to hear over the din in the manor.

Jinzan did not even bother to give chase personally.
Far from a feeble old man, life extension had been good to him, but he was no
athlete. Let less important men—or in this case, goblins—do the work instead.
If she had any other tricks, let them find out firsthand instead of him.

A few moments later, she was hauled back before him. A
dozen goblins trained spears on her, guarding the two that held ropes tethered
to her bound wrists. The front of her chambermaid’s dress was torn and bloodied
at knee height, and her hands and elbows were raw and bloodied, likely by the
goblins dragging her to the ground. Her face was bruised and bloody as well,
evidence that the goblins had felt she needed more subduing than just the
ropes.

[Good work,] he praised the group in general, seeing
no officer among the goblins who had captured the girl.

“Who are you?” Jinzan asked, speaking Kadrin.

He looked the girl over in a different light now,
trying to divine what he could without her answer, rather than doing his
thinking with his loins. She was fair-skinned, common among Kadrins native to
the southern half of the Empire, with dark hair, bordering on black. That she
kept it cropped short at jaw length was either a sign of low status or a part
of her disguise. Nothing prevented highborn women from keeping their hair
short, but fashioning elaborate hairstyles was a common hobby among the idle
elite, sorcerer and noble alike. Her disappearing act showed that she had some
muscle beneath the deceptive curves of hers, but youth could often provide
such, even when less active habits were preferred.

“Celia Mistfield, Seventh Circle,” she replied
defiantly. “The Circle will ransom my safe return.”

“Seventh Circle. That would explain why you could
barely even singe me with hurled fire. I suppose, though, your weak Source was
the only reason you could even pass among the common folk in the first place.
How old are you, girl?”

Celia was silent for a moment, as if considering
whether she should answer at all. “Nineteen autumns, if I live to tomorrow,”
she said, not meeting his gaze.

“Nineteen autumns … and already such a good spy. What
did you hope to find among my things? Were you hoping to discover my plan and
warn someone?” Jinzan asked.

“No,” she said simply, defiant in her lack of
explanation. Her head was lowered, but she was still watching him, glaring
death at him through her drooping bangs.

If she had any power behind those eyes, I would likely
be in great pain right now,
Jinzan
mused.

[Drop the ropes. I will handle her,] Jinzan ordered
quietly.

The two goblins looked wary of their captive as they
turned her loose, but neither questioned the order nor hesitated in carrying it
out.

Times like this remind me of why I began dealing with
them in the first place. Such efficient little minions. No fuss, just obedience
among the rank and file.

Celia was still ringed by spear points and was going
nowhere, as the former rope-holders ducked under the circle of sharpened steel
to safety. Jinzan used a bit of silent magic and the slackened rope came alive,
swirling around her and binding the girl’s arms to her sides, then looping
around her neck. By the force of the magic pulling on the ropes, he dragged her
toward him, motioning to the goblins to allow her to pass. She stumbled as he
drew her in, but the force of the ropes kept her from toppling over. If there
was one thing that goblins respected, it was a good show of magical force. They
saw that the human sorcerer had the situation well in hand now; after the first
one of them bowed and took his leave, the rest soon followed suit.

“I see you have thrown your lot in with these goblins,
rather than you own kind,” Celia jeered at him.

She was obviously frightened and lashing out, but he
respected that kind of bravado. He made a point of being brutally honest with
himself, though, and knew that the satisfaction he was feeling was just trying
to compensate for the fool he had been made by
another
young Kadrin
sorcerer, who seemed both cleverer than this one and a thousand times more
dangerous.

“My own kind? I assure you my own kind is Megrenn, not
goblin … nor is it Kadrin, I might add. Your Empire has overstayed its welcome
on the continent, and we are driving you out of it, slowly but inevitably. We
took back our own lands at great cost, and now we have rebuilt and have the
power to put an end to your dominion,” Jinzan said.

The goblins knew his general plan but were absorbed in
their own concerns. Stalyart knew well enough as well, but only cared for the
money he could make. It felt good to lord it over someone of some tiny import
among the Kadrins—this less-than-promising sorceress of the Seventh Circle
even—and tell them of the vengeance that awaited them.

Still, he felt his point may be lost on her. She was
only nineteen, and the rebellion had ended before she was born. She had grown
up in a world that had only known a Megrenn free of Kadrin occupation.

Jinzan took a moment to compose himself after his
little rant, while Celia remained silent, having no response other than to
continue glaring at him.

“Very well, let me assure you that I do not intend to
kill you …
on the condition
that you make no other attempt to escape or
cause me or these goblins harm. I care little enough for their infantrymen, but
neither will I protect you from them if you anger them enough to warrant them
wishing you dead,” Jinzan told her.

He stepped back into his room, leaving her in the hall
but still within easy earshot. He went about finishing the packing that she had
begun, and which he had largely undone. He was untidy about it, though, merely
stuffing garments and gear into the pack well enough to get it all in.

“We will be making one more stop. Come along,” Jinzan
told her as he strode past. He gave a tug on the ropes and dragged her along
until she decided to keep up willingly. “You will be accompanying me. I will
not have you freezing on the way. We will find you something suitable.”

Jinzan brought them to Lord Feldrake’s chambers and
threw open the doors. G’thk had been using the lord’s room as his own but had
largely left the lord’s clothing unmolested; the wardrobes were too high to be
any use to him, and the garments were neither valuable nor offensive to him.
Luckily the same apathy extended to Lady Feldrake’s wardrobe as well, which
Jinzan tore open and began to pillage. He grabbed the first dress that came to
hand and brought it over to Celia.

“It seems Lady Feldrake was thicker around the middle
and the bust than you, but she was near to your height. Put this on,” and with
that, ropes uncoiled from around her and dropped to the floor. He pressed the
dress into her hands, and she looked at it critically.

“This is much too large for me,” she said, holding up
the maroon-and-white dress to her middle and wrapping it well over halfway
around her.

“I suppose that is what bearing heirs does to a lady’s
figure,” Jinzan called out from the wardrobe, where he was already picking out
more suitable travel gear from among Lady Feldrake’s belongings. He found
petticoats and a long jacket, picked one from an astonishingly large collection
of scarves, and found some fur-lined boots, which like as not would be too
large for the girl. He tossed each in her general direction as he found them.

He retreated from the wardrobe to find her dutifully
struggling into the dress he had handed her. It was wool and much warmer than
the damaged chambermaid’s outfit she had been wearing, and it seemed she was
having trouble lacing up the back. It was a lady’s dress and it was expected
that a lady would have servants to help with such tasks. Jinzan was impressed
by the dexterity she showed in even getting as far as she had, working at the
laces behind her back, and he could not help if his gaze lingered down the
loose-fitting front of it before taking her by the shoulder and turning her
about. He deftly finished up tying the back and pointed to the belt he had left
at her feet—the last item he had taken from the Lady Feldrake’s collection.

As expected, the boots flopped loosely as she walked;
Lady Feldrake must have been a largish woman. Celia took the liberty of
obtaining an ermine hat and matching gloves as well, before they departed.

“Are you not going to put something warmer on,” Celia
asked with unexpected concern in her voice, as they approached the main door of
the manor.

“No. It is a simple work of magic to spare myself the
worst of the elements, and it reminds the goblins that I am not so weak as they
are,” Jinan said. “I will see that you get a horse to ride, and you will keep
by my side. If the goblins see you alone, outside my sight, they will beat you
and send you back to me … and that is if you are lucky. Now come along and you
can witness the fall of Raynesdark. Once we are safely within the captured
city, we can figure out how to best to see to your situation.”

“Are you not worried you waited too long? I would
expect that they would have sent reinforcements by now, and be ready for you,”
Celia said.

Jinzan wondered if she might perhaps be cleverer than
she let on as well. Since when did a Seventh Circle know or care anything about
military matters?

What is it that they teach Kadrin children these days?
Do they all feign incompetence to lull you into underestimating them?

“The goblins’ dragon-goddess is joining the battle. We
will meet her at the city in two days’ time. I do not care about the
reinforcements they might have added—and I doubt they will have any—the dragon
will overwhelm them. Kadrin has grown weak. Their armies have shrunk as they
trade for their wealth now instead of plundering for it, and the Imperial
Circle is a cowardly bunch of old men, with no combat experience worth wooden
sword.”

“So you have not heard then?” Celia asked, goading
him.

“Heard what?” Jinzan could not help but take the bait
she had left for him.

“That we have a warlock again.” She grinned.

Jinzan studied her face for a moment. The
self-satisfaction was evident and seemed genuine.

No, Kadrin is producing too good a crop of liars these
days for me to take a prisoner’s word for such news. Perhaps she is referring
to the demon that the goblins heard reports of. Ni’Hash’Tk will have to deal
with that. I have my own plans to attend to.