Forging Divinity (11 page)

Taelien nodded at that. “Why do you need my help?”

“Ah, that’s the fun part,” Jonan said with a grin. “I managed to get inside. It’s not a very big facility, at least compared to the palaces. I found a dominion bonded door.”

Lydia perked up at that. “That’s fairly unusual, but it could just be where they store their valuables.”

Jonan nodded. “It might be, but the room seemed too big for that. From the position of the door and the location of the surrounding rooms, I’d say it was the size of a large bedroom. But that isn’t the only suspicious part – I’ve seen dominion bonded doors before. I have a spell to see through walls. When I see that type of thing, I just look through the adjacent walls. It didn’t work – in fact, I was temporarily blinded.”

“What would cause that?” Taelien asked.

“They must have bonded the walls inside the room, too,” Lydia explained. “And with a type of dominion bond expressly designed for preventing spells like yours,” she said to Jonan. “You’re right, that is suspicious.”

Jonan nodded. “I was hoping you could cut through the lock,” he said to Taelien.

“What makes you think I could do something like that?” Taelien asked.

“Well, with the sacred sword -,” Jonan began, gesturing at the sword on Taelien’s hip. “Huh. What’d you do with it?”

Did Jonan somehow not notice what the sword looked like this last night? It’s looked like this since before we met him. Which means...

“What makes you think he’s carrying the Sae’kes?” Lydia asked, folding her arms.

“He probably saw me when they first brought me in,” Taelien offered. Jonan nodded in agreement. “There was a pretty big crowd that came to watch when they escorted me over.”

Or he can see through the scabbard,
Taelien considered.
If he can see the runes on the blade, altering the hilt design is almost irrelevant.

Lydia clenched her jaw, looking dissatisfied by the answer, but she didn’t say anything.

“I have no experience at hiding in an urban environment,” Taelien admitted. “But if you explain your plan and it sounds plausible, I will do what I can to help you.”

And hope this isn’t all just some kind of cover to steal something valuable out of a heavily protected room.

Lydia stood up suddenly, a hard expression her face. “Very well, then. With that decision made, I need to report back to the palace and make some excuses.”

“Shall we meet back here in the evening, then?” Jonan asked.

“No promises,” Lydia said. “I need to protect my identity, first and foremost. If I can slip out tonight, I will. If not, it may be another day or more before we can converse again.”

Jonan nodded. “Very well. Good luck,” he said.

Lydia looked slightly rankled, but she nodded curtly to him, and then turned to Taelien. “Don’t get caught. I don’t think I can protect you a second time.”

Taelien nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.”

This is going to be a mess,
Taelien realized. He stood with Jonan across the street from their target building, a solid looking two-story structure of grey stone. A broad sign proclaimed it to be “Talior and Castle Depository”. The building was located in a residential area – not exactly where Taelien expected anyone to hold a group of Rethri prisoners. He was not, however, an expert on the subject.

He was beginning to doubt that Jonan was an expert, too.

The dawnfire still shined brightly overhead, which seemed to be precisely the wrong time to infiltrate a building, and Jonan hadn’t given Taelien any hints about their plan yet. He assumed it involved trying the same invisibility spell that Jonan had been using to follow him earlier – but Lydia had been able to counter that, and another sorcerer with similar skills could do the same.

Here and there, a few civilians walked by, heading into one or two story houses of hardwood and stone. Further down the street, a small group of children playing some kind of game involving sticks and a ball. The image put a smile on Taelien’s face, faintly reminding him of home.
I wonder how Fal is holding up without me?

Most of the homes they passed were painted a light brown, giving the area a woodland tone that only enhanced his homesickness. In the few moments that they stood near their destination Taelien didn’t see anyone enter or exit it, but that was hardly surprising. It was the only business on a street that was mostly residential.

“Remember, you’re James Haven, and I’m Travis Case,” Jonan pointed out.

“I’ve got it, Travis,” Taelien assured him.

“This way,” Jonan said, leading Taelien past the building. Taelien followed, glancing from side to side.
We really should have talked this out in more detail before leaving the house. We can’t talk here – too many civilians around.

A few blocks beyond the building they reached a street lined with shops, some encompassing full structures of their own, others simply booths on the sides of the road. Jonan led them to the only closed door on the street and rapped twice on it. Taelien looked up at the sign above the door, which read, “The Golden Needle”.
Hrm. A tailor.

A few moments later, the door opened. A balding man, his beard showing more gray than brown, stood in the doorway. The man tilted his head tilted to the side inquisitively when he saw Jonan, a hint of irritation showing in his eyes. “Ugh, what is it now?”

“Just a moment of your time, good sir,” Jonan pleaded. “Can we come in?”

The older man sighed. “Fine, fine, just make it quick.” He stepped out of the way, giving Taelien only the briefest sidelong glance as the pair stepped inside.

The gray-bearded man slammed the door shut, folding his arms. “You nearly ruined me last time, you reshing con. Give me three reasons not to call the guards on you right now.”

Taelien frowned and took a step back toward the door, but Jonan just rolled his eyes and reached into a pouch at his side. He withdrew three silver royals – the largest denomination of silver coinage used in areas near Velthryn. With a deep breath, Jonan dropped the coins in the older man’s waiting hand.

The balding man scowled. “That’ll hardly pay for the damage you caused last time, but I’m listening.”

“Nothing scandalous this time, I promise you. I just need two passable tail coats, for my friend here and myself,” he said, indicating Taelien with a gesture. “Just for a few hours. And a place to change and leave our things,” he hastily added.

The older man sighed, shaking his head. “That sounds reasonable enough. But you sounded perfectly reasonable last time, too.”

“We won’t be any trouble, I assure you,” Jonan implored him.

He lies as easily as he breathes
, Taelien considered, drawing his hand into a fist. Not for the first time, Taelien considered turning back. Rescuing a group of Rethri sounded like a noble goal – and if it was true, he’d be glad to help – but an itching in his mind told him that it was terribly improbable that Jonan was telling him the whole truth.

Unfortunately, Lydia – his only other contact in the city – wasn’t much better. She had already proven to be at least similarly adept at deception.

“You say that every time, Travis. Feh,” the older man said.

“I’ll put in a good word with the wife for you. I’ll tell her to give you a discount,” Jonan offered.

Wife?
Taelien wondered, quirking a brow at Jonan. Jonan didn’t even acknowledge him.

The older man scratched his chin. “How much of a discount?”

Jonan shrugged. “That’s up to her. I’ll still pay you for the rentals, of course.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t tell me what you’re doing with the suits. And if there’s blood, clean it off before you get them back to me. I don’t want to see it,” the older man insisted.

“Of course, Elor. No need to worry about that,” Jonan insisted.

A few more coins changed hands, and a mystified Taelien found himself dressed in a dapper black coat suit a few short minutes later. There were no shoes to match it available, but the ones he had borrowed from Jonan looked passable with it.

The sleeves of the coat and the pant legs were both a little bit too short, but not enough to be particularly noticeable. He briefly considered asking the tailor to make some adjustments, but a glance at Elor’s expression told him that it was an unwise idea to press the man further.

Taelien’s sword still sat at his left hip – he had insisted on keeping it with him – but he left his other borrowed garb with the tailor. He glanced in his changing room’s mirror and appraised himself to look like a professional – if only a professional bodyguard, or perhaps a military advisor.

Jonan emerged from his own changing room a few minutes later, looking about five years older and about two social classes higher. His hair had been pulled back into a long tail cinched with a tiny silver harp, the symbol of the queen regent. He wore silver-framed glasses with thinner lenses and a gray coat with steel buttons that looked tailored to fit him.
Maybe it was tailored to fit him – the owner clearly has a history with ‘Travis’ here.

With their new clothes in place, Jonan drew Taelien into his changing room and closed the door.

“And now the plan,” Jonan said.

Taelien raised an eyebrow, adjusting one of the cuffs on his coat. “You could have told me more about this before we left.”

Jonan grinned. “Nonsense. You weren’t committed when we left. Now you are.”

Taelien shifted his stance uneasily.
He’s probably right. It’s amazing how such a small measure of effort can make me feel like it’s too late to turn back from something.

“Not until I agree to what you propose,” Taelien said, for his own benefit as much as Jonan’s.

“It’s actually quite simple. I have a storage unit in the depository. I’m going to ask to visit it. The box is located underground, only a few doors away from the locked room. You are going to go investigate while I fiddle with the contents of the box.”

Taelien leaned back against the wall of the changing room. “Don’t they have guards?”

“Ah, certainly, but the guards will see you in the room with me, not where you truly are,” Jonan explained.

“And if I find the Rethri?” Taelien asked.

“We don’t try to rescue them right now. We don’t have to. Just get inside that door and see what you can find. We can discuss it afterward,” Jonan instructed him.

“You want me to cut through a door and then leave without the contents, with the expectation of coming back later?” Taelien inquired, quirking a brow.

“I, er, can cover the damage up with an illusion. As long as you make clean cuts. Don’t take the whole door off if you can avoid it. You just need to cut the lock,” he said, sounding a bit nervous.

What aren’t you telling me? Planning to leave me behind? Or do you know someone on the inside of the storage facility to cover for us?

Taelien shook his head.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Welcome to Talior and Castle. How may we be of service?” a tall woman asked from behind a counter.

“Yes, hello, I’m Travis Case. I have a box below, I’d like to go dig through it to try to find something,” Jonan said, withdrawing a key and displaying it to the woman.

“Very good, wait here, I’ll fetch someone to escort you,” the woman said.

Their escort arrived a few moments later – a pair of big men in grey suits, not dissimilar from the one Jonan was wearing. They had batons on their hips.

“You’ll have to leave that up here,” one of the guards said, indicating Taelien’s sword.

Taelien nodded silently, reaching to unbuckle his belt.
How did I think I could get into the equivalent of a bank vault while wearing a sword?

Jonan grabbed the belt and sword away from Taelien casually and put a hand on the scabbard as if to remove it from the belt. As Taelien watched, Jonan shifted his hand down the belt in a dragging motion, but the scabbard remained in place. “Can we just leave it here?” Jonan asked, walking over to a doorway.

“Sure,” the guard said. “Just can’t take it downstairs.”

Jonan nodded, making a gesture as if he was leaning something up against the wall, and then handed the belt – sword and all – back to Taelien. “Thank you,” Jonan said to the guard.

The guard nodded as Taelien belted his weapon back on, seeming oblivious to the sword’s presence.
Fascinating. The guards must see the sword as being in that corner. The illusion probably isn’t solid – that’s why Jonan didn’t want to hand it directly to the guards. How is he making illusions that they see, but I can’t? Did he cast something on me earlier to exclude me from the effects?

Taelien considered Jonan’s capabilities with growing suspicion. The Kesite was apparently trained in the Liadran style of sorcery, which involved gestures or directly touching the target, rather than using words. It was the same style that Taelien had learned, but Taelien could only affect things he was in contact with – either directly or through an object he was touching. Jonan’s ability to wordlessly cast spells that impacted vision – or perhaps even thoughts – demonstrated a drastically higher degree of proficiency.