Flight Into Darkness (25 page)

It's all right, Papa, I'll be careful this time, I promise. I'll guard it with my life.

Celestine watched Jagu and the coachman carrying the box containing the Vox Aethyria and the books out of the courtyard. Still no one had challenged them. It was almost as though Linnaius had sprinkled his sleepdust over the whole palace. Perhaps the Emperor's servants had been ordered not to interfere with the Magus's experiments and had learned to stay away…

A sudden chill gust of wind pierced the balmy summer warmth. Celestine's skin tingled. She clutched her arms to her as the icy draft scored a warning across her mind.

He's here.
For a moment she felt overwhelmed by panic. Suppose Linnaius unleashed the full force of his powers against them?

Sleepdust.
She returned to the laboratory and slipped the little phial of iridescent granules into her bodice. What was the harm in using some of the Magus's own magic to subdue him?

Gathering up her skirts, Celestine ran down the stair and toward their carriage, calling out a warning. “Jagu! He's returned!”

Jagu felt the wind gust through the parkland trees, setting all the leaves trembling. He squared his shoulders, reminding himself that hunting down magi was the principal reason he had joined the Commanderie.

I'm not just doing this for Francia, I'm doing this for Celestine.

Yet he had not been forced to confront a true-blood magus face-to-face since Paol's murderer had almost taken his life too in the school
chapel. And as he set out toward the gardens, he was forced to clench his fists to stop his hands from shaking.

He felt a faint prickling sensation in his left wrist. Looking down, he saw that the skin where the magus had imprinted his sigil on him was glimmering.

It can't be the same magus. He was young, even well-favored. And Linnaius is so old.

He caught sight of an elderly man in the distance. He was slowly coming toward him along one of the gravel paths, stopping every now and then, as if to catch his breath, one hand pressed to his chest, the other clutching a little casket.

As Jagu watched, he reached the topiary gardens and, tottering to a garden seat, lowered himself onto it. Emboldened, Jagu set out toward him, passing along a path of grey gravel between clipped box beds. The Magus was sitting slumped against the ironwork scrolls of the bench. His breath came in shallow gasps and his eyes were shut.

“You don't look very well,” said Jagu quietly. “Can I help you?”

Linnaius slowly raised his head, squinting in the bright sunlight. “I'm just a little… fatigued.” He tried to get up again, clinging to the side of the seat.

“Lean on me.” Jagu took hold of him. “Are you going into the palace?”

Linnaius nodded and they set off at a slow pace toward the stables.

As long as he doesn't notice that I'm steering him in the opposite direction…

”
Just a little farther now,” Jagu said aloud, as they reached the stable courtyard, where their coach stood waiting, horses harnessed, ready to leave. The coach door opened and Celestine emerged.

“Good day, Kaspar Linnaius,” she said. “We have been waiting for you.”

Jagu felt the Magus react and tightened his grip on Linnaius's arm.

“What do you want with me?” Linnaius demanded.

“Just to take a ride in this coach together,” she said. “It's a lovely day for a ride, isn't it?”

“I will not be taken anywhere against my will—” Linnaius began.

“Please don't make a fuss,” Jagu said as he drew his pistol from his
belt, “or we will be obliged to compel you by other, less pleasant means.”

“At least let me bring a few possessions…”

Jagu pressed the muzzle of a pistol against the back of the Magus's neck. “Into the coach,” he whispered. “Now.”

CHAPTER 13

Jagu hurtled across the cobbled quay toward where the ambassador's carriage stood waiting.

“Urgent, you say, Lieutenant?” Abrissard gave Jagu one of his frostiest looks. “This had better be urgent enough to make me delay my return to Muscobar.”

Jagu, too breathless to reply, handed the casket to him.

“What's this?” Ambassador d'Abrissard opened the lid. A rich crimson glow emanated from inside, fierce as a winter's sunset, lighting his face with its fire.

“The Tears,” Abrissard said in wondering tones. “The Tears of Artamon.” He shut the lid swiftly and when he looked up, Jagu saw that his eyes gleamed. And the ambassador was usually so self-controlled. “How did you—”

“They were in the Magus's possession.” Jagu, exultant that he and Celestine had pulled off such an outrageous feat, could not stop himself from smiling.

“And you weren't followed?” The ambassador glanced anxiously around. “You're certain no one saw you?”

Jagu gave a little shrug. “The palace servants were too busy tidying up after the ball.”

“I will inform his majesty straightaway.” Abrissard was once again the prudent diplomat.

“Isn't the king still in Djihan-Djihar?”

“Indeed. I'll get the rubies off Tielen soil as swiftly as possible.” Abrissard's tone was brisk. “Where's Demoiselle Celestine?”

“Keeping guard over the Magus in case he wakes.”

One of Abrissard's curving black brows quirked upward and Jagu found himself wondering if it had been so prudent to leave Celestine alone with Linnaius.

“She'll be fine. Père Judicael taught us special techniques to subdue the magi.” He spoke with a confidence he did not feel; he was anxious to get back to Celestine as soon as possible to make sure that she was still safe.

“Captain Peillac will take you and Linnaius to Francia on the
Dame Blanche.
As to the Tears, I can assure you they will be delivered to the king directly.”

“Very good, Ambassador.” Jagu saluted and turned to leave when Abrissard stopped him.

“I'll be commending you both to his majesty. The contents of this simple casket could well change the tide of history. Well done, Lieutenant.”

Jagu bowed, acknowledging the compliment. As he hurried back to the tavern, he still could not quite believe their good fortune in capturing both the Magus and the prized rubies together.

“This is where we must part company, your highness.” Celestine curtsied to Prince Andrei. “I wish you a safe journey to Francia.” She turned to board the
Dame Blanche
but Andrei seized hold of her hand.

“Are you certain you're feeling all right?” he asked in a low, intense voice. “I was so worried about you. Linnaius is dangerous—”

“I'm fine.” She smiled at him, touched by his concern. “I was just careless and I let my guard down. Don't worry. I won't make such a foolish mistake again.”

The crates containing the incriminating papers and alchymical equipment from the Magus's laboratories were being carefully loaded onto the
Dame Blanche
under Jagu's watchful eye.

“Maybe I should come with you.” Still Andrei held her hand between his own.

“But you promised your sister that you would wait for her!”

“I don't know if she will come, though.” Andrei looked so forlorn that her heart was touched.

“Oh, she'll come. Your sister feels very neglected by—”

“Celestine!” Jagu was standing at the top of the companionway watching them with a frown as dark and menacing as a thundercloud. “We're waiting for you.”

* * * 

The sky above the port of Haeven began to darken as if a tempest were blowing in across the Straits.

Celestine's ship,
Andrei thought anxiously.
The Magus is on board. Suppose he's summoned a storm to help him escape? She could be in grave danger…

And then his whole body chilled as if he had fallen into deep icy water. For what was coming straight toward them was no stormcloud. It dashed across the tops of the waves, whipping them up into a frenzy of foam. Eyes fixed on him, daemon eyes of dazzling intensity that seemed to pierce through him to the deepest core of his being.

“What's wrong, Andrei?” He heard Astasia's voice as if from a great distance.

“G—get on board, Astasia,” he managed to stammer. For he knew what it was; it was kin to the spirit that had healed him: unimaginably powerful, filled with an untamable fury. He broke into a stumbling run, intent only on drawing the creature away from his sister, heading out along the jetty.

“
Why are you running from me, child of Artamon?”
He could hear its voice, and it was different from the voice of the Drakhaoul that had healed him. “
I am Adramelech.”
Soft, yet imbued with strength and understanding. “
I am your destiny The blood of the Emperor Artamon runs in your veins. Merge with me… and I will fulfill your deepest desires.
”

“A—Adramelech?” Andrei stammered—and the creature enveloped him, enwrapping him in a cloud of twilit mist until he felt as if he were drowning in its empurpled depths.

Drenching rain blew in gusts across the deck of the
Dame Blanche.
The wind battered her sails and whipped the waves into great rolling breakers until she pitched and tossed helplessly.

Belowdecks, Celestine struggled toward the Magus's cabin. Every lurch of the vessel flung her against the wooden walls, but she fought on until she reached the cabin door and unlocked it. The door flew open and she stumbled inside.

The Magus lay as they had left him, securely bound to the bunk. But one finger, his right index finger, was moving slowly. And though his eyes were closed, she saw a faint smile on his pallid lips by the light of the flickering lantern.

“This is your doing.” Another great wave threw her against the wall of the cabin. She grabbed hold of the bunk head to steady herself. “Make it stop!”

“Release me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the roar of the storm, “and I will do as you ask.”

“But what good will it do if you sink the ship?”

“Release me… and no one will be harmed.”

A sound of splitting timber came from above deck, followed by a great shout and a terrifying crash.

There was a spell she had read in her father's grimoire, a binding spell. It was very risky to use such a powerful trick of the Forbidden Arts on a Commanderie ship, but as the
Dame Blanche
shuddered, helpless in the blast of the storm, she had little alternative but to try.

She closed her eyes, concentrating with all her heart and will.
Faie, help me.

Suddenly her whole body was infused, drenched with the Faie's pure light.

She raised one hand, pointing at the Magus.

“
In bonds invisible, I bind thee,”
she whispered, hearing the Faie's sweet, clear voice fused with her own. She could feel the coils of power slowly unraveling and rolling down the length of her arm into her wreathing fingertips, wrapping themselves about him. And she knew that Linnaius could feel them too. She heard him whisper “No!” even against the groaning and creaking of the timbers of the ship.

“Now, sleep.” She dipped into the little phial of dustlike granules she had found in his laboratory, and softly blew on her fingertips, sending the dust to settle over him in a powdery cloud.

His lids began to close and his finger ceased to move as the protest died on his lips. The wind suddenly dropped and the waves stilled. The sickening pitching and rolling stopped and the ship lay becalmed.

Celestine let out a long, slow breath. She and the Faie had meshed him in a web of his own making; the sleepdust had worked on him, just as it had when he had used it on her at Swanholm. She had feared he might have made himself immune to his own devices. Just as long as no one from the Commanderie had witnessed what she had done…

It was only then that she realized the cabin door hung open and Jagu was standing in the doorway.

“How could you, Celestine?” Jagu's eyes burned dark in his pale
face. He was soaked, wet locks of black hair plastered across his forehead. “You
promised
me.”

The Faie's energy still pulsed in her veins, mingled with her own nascent powers. “There was no other way to subdue him. If I hadn't stopped him then, we could all have drowned.” She felt exultant, intoxicated with the success of her actions.

“But if Maistre de Lanvaux hears what you have done—” Jagu broke off. He seemed to be searching for a reason that might sway her to his point of view. “Remember what they did to your father, Celestine.”

“No one will know if you say nothing, Jagu,” she said lightly. Could she still trust him? “No one knows what happened here but you.”

The sun's first light pierced Ruaud's cabin early and he lay in his bunk, still half-asleep, remembering fragments of a strange dream. All that remained was the memory of a gilded glow that surrounded the ship, casting a trail of liquid gold across the dark sea…

As the flagship cut through the waves, a flash of morning light caught fire in the clear facets of the Angelstone, which he had hung above his bunk for safekeeping. Ruaud reached for the stone and gazed at it in consternation, not understanding what he saw. A flame of bright gold, pure as the sunlight, glinted within. Threads of other colors twisted and pulsed around it: violet, scarlet, blue, and malachite green.