Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (63 page)

Slowly the assassin leaned in closer to the sorcerer,
holding his breath lest his victim sense the approach by a disturbance in the
air. With dexterity and practiced control, the figure got right down next to
the sorcerer’s neck …

With expert timing, he simultaneously grabbed the
sorcerer’s nose and drew his dagger deeply across his victim’s throat, at the
end of a long breath. The heavy-set sorcerer’s involuntary gasp filled his
lungs with blood and gave him no breath with which to scream.

It was short work after that to cut the man’s heart
from his chest, using magics that any Master of Eternal Night would have
practiced to the point of doing them blindfolded. He burned the aether out of
the sorcerer’s Source, more a matter of professional pride than for any real
concern about necromancy. There were standards he had to live up to, after all.

After cleaning his dagger on the sorcerer’s
nightclothes, Gkt’Lr ventured back out into the hall.

The door across from the last one was not warded at
all. He checked twice to make sure but could find nothing. The door even opened
at his lightest touch and made not a whisper of sound as it swung.

Excellent. This is more like it.

Gkt’Lr was disappointed, however, to find that the
room was vacant. He made a circuit of the room to be thorough but could find no
occupant.

So much for things going so easily
, the goblin thought ruefully.

He closed the door behind him and crossed once again
to the other side of the hallway. This door seemed like a trap. The ward upon
it was crude and seemed lazily fashioned. It warranted extreme caution after
the dangerous trap he had just uncovered within a simple ward, but this was no
layered masterwork. It was simply a sloppy ward. Gkt’Lr applied just the
slightest pressure with his own aether and it fell to nothingness.

*
* * * * * * *

As the door swung inward, a pair of green eyes snapped
open, red-rimmed yet fully alert. Using her aether-vision, Juliana noticed her
would-be assailant enter the room and close the door. It was a small Source,
though far from a weak one. There seemed to be some sort of runed dagger held in
one of its hands.

Two can play that game
, she thought angrily as she reached silently beneath
her pillows to take hold of her daggers. She lay with her back to the door,
facing the curtained window. She silently cast a shielding spell and waited for
the assassin to draw closer.

The goblin—for it was obvious as to what creature so
small would be skulking in the castle with a runed dagger drawn—was taking care
not to make the slightest noise. She almost wished she had been snoring so that
the goblin would not be so concerned with stealth and just hurry up!

At last, the goblin approached close enough that she
felt confident in springing her trap. She whirled in bed and slashed out with
one of her daggers. The goblin had been caught by surprise but had reflexively
deflected the strike and sprung back.

Juliana then quickly lit the room as bright as
daylight and rolled off the bed to confront her attacker. She crouched low to
keep the assassin from being able to get beneath her reach, wielding a dagger
in each hand.

The assassin tried to strike at her, but she parried
with one dagger while striking back with the other. The goblin tried a few more
slashes but was finding himself too pressed in return to carry on an offensive.

Gkt’Lr was not above resorting to a bit of firehurling
when he was in trouble, and loosed a blast of aether-borne fire toward the
Kadrin woman. He would not have thought to call her a sorceress if she was
goblin, for minor magical ability was common among them, and she had shown
little skill with anything but a blade.

Unfortunately for the assassin, Juliana knew more
magic than he had realized—shoddy ward-crafting notwithstanding—and her shield
spell deflected the weak flame. Firehurling was useful for many tasks, but
breaking through a sorcerer’s shielding spell was not among them.

Gkt’Lr had used the diversion of the spell to make his
escape, bolting for the door as she instinctively flinched away from the fires.
Juliana’s reaction did not buy him enough time, though, and he did not make it
through the door before she had recovered. Knowing that she would never catch a
goblin in a footrace, she flung one of her daggers, catching the goblin
assassin low in the back. The assassin sprawled out of sight of the door as he
fell.

Juliana quickly pulled on her traveling boots before
venturing out into the cold night air in the hallway. She found the assassin
struggling to get to his feet, bleeding badly from his lower back. Both the
assassin’s dagger and her own lay out of reach on the floor, and the assassin
turned feebly toward her as she approached him.

“Peace. Me give up,” Gkt’Lr begged, holding up an
empty hand while the other kept him from collapsing face-first onto the hall
carpet.

Juliana walked over next to the goblin, her other
dagger still clenched in her hand. “I know better than to trust an assassin,”
she told him simply.

She proceeded to put her booted foot on the back of
the assassin’s neck and stepped down. Not heavy for a human, she might as well
have been an ox for all the goblin could tell in his weakened state. Her weight
flattened him to the ground, and his neck snapped as she shifted her weight
onto him.

With reddened eyes and still wearing the dress that
Brannis had rejected her in, she was in no mood for mercy.

Chapter 31 - What’s in a Name?

“It is called the breech. And that small hole there is
called the touch hole. You put the brand to that and light the powder in the
vent. That sets off the charge in the chamber, which is the inside part at the
bottom of the bore,” Crispin explained, pointing as he went along.

“And how do you prepare it for another shot?” Kyrus
asked.

He had gone belowdecks to find out more about how
cannons worked, since Brannis would be facing them in battle all too soon. If
there were weaknesses to be exploited, he wanted to know about them. Crispin
had been the gunnery mate aboard the
Harbinger
when it was still an
Acardian vessel, and was gunnery mate again aboard the newly rededicated
Fair
Trader
, the name Captain Zayne had chosen for his ship.

They had been out of port for a day, and the ship
teemed with bodies. They had sailed into Marker’s Point with fewer than two
dozen men and now departed with over eighty. They might have stayed longer and
found even better sailors among the outcasts of Marker’s Point, but Captain
Zayne had been wary of staying too long after Kyrus’s mishap, just in case the
authorities were able to make a connection between them and the incident.

“You swab out the bore, wet mind you, and then you
load a new charge, wadding, and your shot. Fill the vent with powder again and
it is ready to fire,” Crispin explained.

He seemed eager to show off his knowledge of the guns,
a topic that few aboard were interested in. One was either a gunner or not, and
those who were not gunners assumed that it was someone else’s job to worry
about how they worked.

“Fascinating. And how far can they fire and …”

*
* * * * * * *

“So where are we heading now?” Kyrus asked, leaning
over the map. It showed the vicinity of Marker’s Point and a few days’ sailing
in any direction.

“We are heading to here.”

Stalyart pointed to a small cluster of islands to the
southeast, the largest of which was labeled as Denku Appa. They were not as
remote as Marker’s Point but were still at least a hundred miles off the coast
of Feru Maru, the nearest large landmass.

“What is in Denku Appa? It seems a bit out of the way.
I mean … I thought the same of Marker’s Point, but this does not seem the sort
of place to attract trade the way Marker’s Point does.”

“You are correct, Mr. Hinterdale. There is not so much
there,” Stalyart agreed. “But it has two things that very much interest Captain
Zayne. He kept a treasure stashed there, one that he had not told me about
until just last night. They also have very beautiful women there, and it is
warm all year round, so they do not wear much.”

Stalyart winked at him. That was all good for Stalyart
and Captain Zayne. They could have all the scantily clad island women they
wanted for all he cared. He just wanted to find a way to see Abbiley again.

“Well, it looks like we can be there the day after
tomorrow,” Kyrus concluded, examining the map for a moment and measuring the
distance on the map with a compass.

Stalyart had yet to trust him without checking his
calculations, but Kyrus had yet to be wrong. The older pirate did his cyphering
on a slate with a piece of chalk, accounting for known currents and the
prevailing winds. Kyrus managed the same tasks in his head and was quicker
about it. It was something Stalyart could not grasp, and it made him assume
Kyrus was guessing.

“Mr. Stalyart, can I ask you something?” Kyrus asked,
realizing that he had just asked something.

“Of course.”

“Who is Captain Zayne in the other world?” Kyrus said.
There was no harm in trying, he supposed.

“He is a Megrenn sorcerer. A good one too, by all the
pleasant words I hear spoken of him when I travel in Megrenn lands. He was a
hero of the war they fought to free themselves from your people. In the city of
Zorren, there are five statues in the central square—‘The Liberators,’ they are
called. Captain Zayne is one of those statues.”

“Really?” Kyrus was genuinely surprised. “They made a
statue of him?”

“Indeed. The Megrenn people suffered much at the hands
of the Kadrins. It was a great day when word came that Kadrin had agreed to
peace and allowed them to rule themselves once again,” Stalyart said.

The first mate seemed to be enamored of the Megrenn,
but that seemed appropriate for a merchant such as himself. Megrenn produced
little food and was not rich in resources like Kadrin was. They bought and
sold, and each time took a little for themselves; it was enough to make a nice
living for their people, but it left them vulnerable to blockades and
embargoes.

“So who is he? Anyone I would have heard of?” Kryus
persisted.

“I think not. Have you heard of Jinzan Fehr?”

“The name does not sound familiar. Is that even a
Megrenn name?”

“Hah! Very observant, Mr. Hinterdale. His father was
from Gar-Danel. Outside of Kadrin, it is much less uncommon to marry a
foreigner. Of Jinzan Fehr’s three wives, only one is Megrenn,” Stalyart
boasted, as if it was his own feat to be proud of.

“Three wives? I did not think the Megrenn kept harems.
Is that a holdover from Gar-Danel as well?”

“No. No … they lost many men in the war. Too many.
There were widows and daughters and no men to marry them off to. They allowed
men to have two wives. For the Liberators, they were allowed as many wives as
would have them. If there is one lesson they took from you Kadrin murderers, it
is that strong blood keeps a nation strong,” Stalyart said.

For the first time, Kyrus heard bitterness in the
man’s voice. It seemed there was some grudge to be had against Kadrin there
too.

 “Do you think Megrenn is going to actually manage to
conquer Kadrin? Just twenty years ago, they were part of the Empire. I cannot
imagine they have changed things there so quickly,” Kyrus said.

He did not know why he felt he had to defend the glory
of the Empire from a pirate, but he had to get to the core issue at hand as
well: what Captain Zayne was up to in Veydrus.

“Hmm. I do not know. I think they will try. I think
their cause is right. The one weapon they have that Kadrin never learned is how
to make friends. Kadrin has no allies. You stand alone,” Stalyart said sadly.

“Mr. Stalyart, what would you say if I told you I
would much prefer peace between Kadrin and Megrenn, and that if Captain Zayne
starts a war, Megrenn will be wiped out?”

“I would say that in twenty years, Kadrin has grown
weaker and Megrenn has grown stronger. With help of knowledge of this world for
cannons and black powder, Captain Zayne will make them stronger still. With
allies, he will make them strong enough that Kadrin will be forced to
surrender.”

“No,” Kyrus replied. “Kadrin is stronger than you
imagine. If you can convince him to make peace, we can save untold lives.”

“Why do you care so much? You are a brigand who preys
on merchants and who kills when it suits you. Why should you care about Megrenn
lives?” Stalyart asked.

Kyrus knew at that point that the canny sailor had not
believed his story.

The maps and charts lay forgotten on the table next to
them as the ship continued on its course, vaguely in the proper direction.
Kyrus had no proper response for Stalyart, at least none that was consistent
with the life’s story he had given.

“You work with the captain, and you will be fine,”
Stalyart advised. “There is no need to get involved in the war. Find yourself a
nice nobleman to serve, and pass information along to the Megrenn. Captain
Zayne will see in return that you are taken care of. The Megrenn are not like
you Kadrins. I know, I have traveled in both lands, and I see the differences.
You will not be put to slaughter.”

Kyrus swallowed hard. “Megrenn will.”

“You are young. You do not see the changing of the
world. The pendulum swings and then it swings back.”

“It just got pulled in back our way,” Kyrus said. “I
know too much already. We are ready for war. Please, try to convince the
captain.”

“Convince him yourself. You have fooled him before; go
fool him again if you must. I will not stop you from trying.”

*
* * * * * * *

“Where did you learn that?” Denrik protested. “I went
through the Academy in Kadrin and never have I seen such tactics. I have played
many Megrenn sorcerers as well, and I can usually acquit myself well enough,
even in losing. I know not a single player who would be your equal.”

“There is your problem. You have learned from the
wrong world.”

Kyrus smiled. He had challenged the captain to a game
of chess, and one game had turned into five. Denrik Zayne was a proud man and
wanted to at least manage a draw before admitting defeat overall.

“I literally wrote the book on chess, several times,”
Kyrus said.

“Set up the pieces again. I shall not let you off so
easily as that. Try that same trick as last time and I shall have a response
for it. And stop making those pointless moves in the middle, taunting me,”
Denrik said.

The little chess set they had found on the ship
consisted of a heavy board with small pegs sticking up at the center of each
square, and each piece had a hole in the bottom to fit snugly down onto those
pegs. It kept the game from shifting and being ruined by the motion of the
ship; the Acardian Navy had too much time on their hands, developing such
diversions.

“Those moves you do not understand are the reason I
keep beating you. Just because you cannot see what is going on, does not mean
that there is nothing happening.”

Kyrus worded his statements carefully. He was trying
to lead up to the point of his conversation: that he knew what Megrenn was up
to, and not just in the general sense, and that they were following a path to
ruin.

“So you say.”

Another three games passed, and Denrik was finally
nearing the point of admitting total defeat. He ran his fingers along his
scalp, where a fine stubble was finally starting to resemble hair again, and
sighed in frustration. It apparently felt good for him to flex the muscles of
his mind, but he wanted to find some result in it.

“I think you must be cheating somehow. I see no other
way you could win so many times in a row,” Denrik accused after the ninth game.

“You cannot cheat at chess. The pieces are right there
in front of both of us the whole time.”

“I would not have thought you could cheat at Crackle,
either, at least not without my noticing.”

Denrik glared at him. Kyrus flushed, unaware that the
captain had caught on somehow.

“This is a pirate ship. I assumed everyone else was
cheating,” Kyrus said.

Denrik chuckled. “So your excuse was that you thought
you did not want to be the only one at a disadvantage? Hah! So what were you
doing here to win at chess?”

“Outplaying you badly, I am afraid. I have no need to
cheat to beat you. I must admit an ulterior motive, though. I wanted to show
you that just because you do not always understand what you are seeing, does
not mean that it is not a danger.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Denrik asked, his
eyes narrowing.

Kyrus sighed within. Denrik was a stubborn man and
clearly not prone to enjoying lessons. He would occasionally teach them but
preferred to think of himself as having all the answers he needed.

“You are planning a war with Kadrin. You cannot
prevail. Lives will be lost on a scale you have not seen in your lifetime, and
your cities will burn to the ground,” Kyrus said.

“Your loyalty to them is admirable, brigand, but you
do not understand the strategic situation as well as I do. Shall I lay it out
before you?”

Kyrus saw no need to answer and allowed Denrik to
continue.

“Kadrin has been in decline for decades. You
overextended your reach under Liead’s reign and made enemies of the whole of
the continent. Loramar’s wars against you sapped your strength and wasted the
lives of many of your sorcerers. When Rashan Solaran was destroyed in the
Battle of the Dead Earth, it marked the beginning of your fall. The Kadrin
Empire curled into a ball and licked its wounds, guarding its sorcerers against
harm rather than risking losing their precious bloodlines.

“Even now, with war at hand, they cower in their
towers and plot, rather than acting against Megrenn,” Denrik said.

“Tides change,” Kyrus said, attempting a nautical
metaphor. “The rocks are about to be exposed, and if you do not take care, you
will run aground.”

“Mr. Hinterdale, you should stick to cheating at
Crackle. You have no subtlety. What are you on about? What is it that you know
that you are trying so desperately
not
to tell me, despite dangling it
before me?” Denrik demanded.

“I know what you are planning. I know your goblin
allies have taken your cannons to Raynesdark and intend to conquer it. I even
suspect you are with them personally,” Kyrus guessed. He was fairly certain but
had no way of confirming who the human liaison was. If he guessed correctly, he
might be able to convince Denrik to avert the disaster he was inviting.