Forging Divinity (17 page)

She headed to the back where Jonan had shown them his bedchamber during the forced ‘tour’ of the house when they had first met.
Just yesterday,
she recalled.
Gods, I get involved with strange men too quickly sometimes.

She took note of how plain the bedchamber was, aside from an elegant rug near the center of the room. The tools of Jonan’s assumed trade were laid out in an orderly fashion next to an assembled mirror.
Another of his dominion bonded ones,
she guessed. Three pairs of glasses – one of which had no lenses – sat mirror.

Lydia rinsed her hands with only the slightest suspicion that the bowl might actually contain some sort of acid and returned to sit with Jonan a few moments later.

“Should I empty the bloody water out somewhere?” she inquired, drying her hands on a non-bloodied portion of her pants.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll deal with it in the morning,” he replied. “How is he doing?”

I’m mildly surprised that you care so much,
Lydia realized.
Maybe you’re not quite the monster most of the Order of Vaelien are.

“He’s still plenty depressed about killing the Esharen, and I think he will be for a while. I think I’ve just managed to focus that feeling into motivation to improve, which should be more productive,” Lydia explained.

“Maybe,” Jonan replied dubiously. “He was plenty motivated before. That was part of the problem.”

Lydia shrugged. “I will take a motivated ally over a complacent one at any time.”

Jonan snorted, setting down his cup. “Any time, really? That’s a line I plan to remind you about later.”

Lydia quirked a brow. “That implies a longer-term partnership than I anticipate.”

“You underestimate my charms,” Jonan gave her an exaggerated wink. Lydia was forced to giggle in spite of herself. The absurdity was more welcome than she realized. “But more realistically, I have already been here for months. I’ll wager you have been as well. This will not be a short assignment.”

“Our timeframe draws close to an end, I’m afraid,” Lydia replied, his last words drawing her back to serious contemplation. “Or, our time with access to Taelien, at least. Myros is definitely on his way, and he’ll arrive in less than a week.”

“Well,” Jonan said, steepling his fingers, “That’s bad.”

“You found an Esharen in the bank. Did you find anything else of interest?” Lydia asked, leaning forward against the table.

Jonan shook his head swiftly. “Nothing aside from the runes I already showed you. And they’re gibberish, so far as I can tell.”

“I could try to using a spell to identify them if you took me there,” Lydia volunteered, surprising herself.
That’s quite a risk.

“Too much of a risk,” Jonan said. “We didn’t leave noisily, but there will be evidence of our break-in. The missing Esharen, and damage to the room besides. I expect the building to be much better guarded, and with the Esharen gone, they may simply remove the runes.”

Lydia nodded. “What about the other facilities from your map?”

Jonan considered the question. “I know at least two of the other facilities are connected directly to Tailor. If he’s the one making these bizarre runes, there’s a good chance we can find them at one of these other places.”

“Very well, then perhaps we should investigate one of those next,” Lydia offered.

Jonan’s expression twisted into a scowl. “Not to be offensive, but my last experience with bringing someone with me ended rather poorly.”

Lydia smiled. “Fair enough. You should keep in mind, however, that I am still a court sorceress. I can probably gain access to most of these places simply by asking – or by making a legal claim to investigate, if necessary.”

“That’s good, and I haven’t forgotten that,” Jonan explained. “But it’s also our best edge. We don’t want to use it until we narrow things down further, otherwise we’ll dull it to uselessness. The worst thing that could happen right now would be someone catching on to your involvement in our infiltrations – well, the worst thing aside from us all dying horribly, of course.”

“There’s a middle ground,” Lydia pointed out. “I could go to one of these facilities in an official capacity, and you could follow me invisibly. Once I’ve gotten us inside the building, we could split up and plan to meet back here at a later time. So long as you can maintain your invisibility, there should be nothing to make us look conspicuous.”

Jonan took off his glasses, setting them down on the table and began to rub his temples. “I still feel we may be playing our hand too quickly that way – your presence may trigger an increase in security. Still, with Myros on the way, we do not have the luxury of taking our time. All right. We will try your plan.”

Lydia nodded. “Well, then perhaps we should both get some rest, and plan for an eventful tomorrow.”

“An eventful tomorrow,” Jonan muttered. “Let’s hope not.”

Chapter VI – A Contest of Concealment

The Aldwyn Alchemical Archives were ostensibly a government-funded alchemical research center. One of Jonan’s contacts – Randall Shaw – had indicated that sorcerous research was also conducted there. This wasn’t all that suspicious in itself – alchemy was often considered a branch of sorcery. The size of the facility and the small number of researchers with access to it were factors that made it worth investigating, however.

“You’re certain this is a good idea?” Jonan asked Lydia, his eyes nervously scanning up and down across her formal violet robes.
I’ll bet they don’t get visitors of her stature very often. They’re going to be bowing and scraping to try to win her favor. That’s a great distraction for me, but word of her visit will spread quickly.

“Of course not.” She straightened the pins on her collar, and then leaned down to adjust her sword belt. “Certainty in the face of variables is a sign of insanity.”

Jonan sighed. “Right. Off we go, then.” He bowed at the waist, concentrating at the mid-point of the bow.
Erase image of self.

And with that, he vanished.

“Show off,” Lydia muttered. “All right, keep your steps quiet, but stay close. I’ll hold doors for a couple extra seconds for you, but any longer and it’ll look awkward.”

“I will endeavor to do as you say, mistress,” Jonan replied, mimicking Taelien’s voice with a silly look on his face.

“Just walk,” Lydia said, her terse tone failing to hide her grin. She started toward the building’s entrance, which was just around the next bend. Jonan complied with her instructions, following close behind her.

A pair of guards stood at the entrance of the facility, just as Jonan had noted in previous visits. He had circled the three-story building and found two other entrances, each equally guarded. His efforts to purchase a blueprint for the building had come up dry, so he had drawn his own best guess at the interior layout from studying the windows. He could have achieved a better version by looking through the walls, but that spell required touching them, and he did not want to trigger any defensive sorcery that might have been on the building until he was ready to commit to a full search.

Thus, he had memorized his quickly-sketched informal blueprint and quickly decided that it was mostly useless. The one useful bit of information was the location of a ground-level room with windows broad enough for a person to slip through. They were latched from the inside, making them a poor entrance, but potential emergency exit.

There were windows on multiple upper floor rooms as well, but Jonan didn’t like his chances of exiting through them, even with bushes below to “catch” a potential fall.

The guards greeted Lydia, saluting her and exchanging pleasantries. Jonan didn’t pay too much attention to what they said – he just followed in her step, concentrating on maintaining his spell.

I’m not here,
he reminded himself.
They can’t see me.

After only a few more moments, one of the guards politely opened the door to the building for Lydia – and Jonan rushed past her, still stepping as quietly as possible, to slip inside.

Okay. It’s my turn, now.

Jonan made an immediate left turn, aware of every creak in the wooden floor from his footsteps.
Who puts a hardwood floor in a research facility? Honestly, such a waste of money.

He passed three doors before finding a staircase leading upward, which he immediately moved toward. A man wearing a long white coat rounded a corner nearby and nearly bumped into him, but Jonan managed to flatten himself against the wall and avoid the collision. Several seconds of heavy breathing followed.

Did he hear me move? No? Maybe?
A glance at the retreating figure showed no sign of disruption in the man’s behavior.
Safe. For now.

Jonan turned back toward the stairs and found himself staring directly at a violet robed sorceress – and one who was, most definitely, not Lydia. Her eyes were indigo around a black pupil, without a hit of white around the pools of color. Aside from her eyes, she looked completely human.

Rethri,
Jonan realized, his heart skipping a beat. She seemed to stare straight back at him for a moment before she drifted past him wordlessly, her gaze still etched into his mind. He forced himself to note some of her other characteristics – tanned skin and wavy brown hair - in case he needed to describe her later.

Did she just see me? If so, why didn’t she react?

And why is a Rethri wearing the robes of a court sorcerer?

Jonan slowly made his way up the stairs, still trapped in thought.
There are only supposed to be five court sorcerers – three human men, two human women. Could a Rethri be escaping at this very moment, wearing stolen robes?

He briefly debated following her – after all, finding the Rethri was one of his primary goals – but the risk was too great. If the Rethri really was a court sorceress, there was a good chance she had trained with Lydia – and that meant she might have the same spells for detecting invisible people that Lydia did. He was safest as far away from her as possible.

Vaelien’s breath. I’m in a terrible position here. I need to move.

He found an open door at the top of the stairs and slipped through it, glancing to both sides before emerging into the unoccupied hallway. The floors were tile here, and the white-painted walls were adorned with decorative weapons and pieces of armor.

Fancy,
Jonan thought.
Odd to make an upper floor the ostentatious one. But it’s probably not relevant to what I’m looking for, unless there’s a very sinister interior designer involved.

Shaking his head, Jonan started out down the hallway to the left of the stairs. There were several doors, each conveniently marked with a plaque indicating their contents. He passed “Wet Storage” and “Workshop 4” before pausing at “Filing”.

That could be promising,
Jonan considered.
If they keep their research notes in here, I could potentially find something about tests on the Rethri. Or, perhaps, they might have a list of the personnel at the facility.

After a moment of internal debate, he pressed on.
Digging through documents could take hours. I need to find something now.

He passed a door labeled “Waiting” and reached another stairwell – this one leading both up and down - and then turned to check the opposite end of the hall. He passed “Dry Storage”, “Workshop 2”, “Workshop 3”, and “Lounge” before turning a corner. Ahead, he saw a grand pair of double doors – unlabeled – and a tall man with graying hair in the process of unlocking them.

Jonan fell into step behind the man, following him into the room as it opened.

The room was filled with beds. Half a dozen beds, with privacy curtains separating them, like in a hospital. The faint sound of coughing from one of the beds drew Jonan’s attention, and he realized after a moment they were all inhabited – and by children.

Probably sick children,
he realized after taking a step closer. They were all dressed in simple robes and covered in heavy blankets. The gray haired man quietly closed the door behind the pair of them –
oops, that’s bad
– and went to sit by the side of one of the children.

“You’ll be better soon,” the older man said to the child. There was no reply – after taking a step closer, Jonan realized the child’s eyes were closed. The child looked to be about eight years old, and he had odd rings of blisters around his eyes. Jonan lifted a mirror to reflect the image of the child, tapping the surface.

Preserve,
he told the mirror, and silently tucked it away.

So, this room isn’t just like a hospital – it is a hospital.
As Jonan softly stepped around the room, he noted three of the other children with similar marks around their eyes – but two of them with no visible signs of illness. The child who had coughed was one of the ones without any marks, however, indicating that there might be some other sign of illness he could not easily perceive.

What kind of sickness causes blisters around the eyes? It doesn’t look like shingles or Soren’s disease.
Jonan searched his memories, but he could not recall any disease that fit the description.
The patterns of the blisters look almost circular. Could someone be burning them intentionally?
Jonan grimaced at the thought.

A possibility, but not the only one. I certainly don’t know every disease out there. And if this is a research facility, it stands to reason that they could be looking for cures to obscure diseases.

Jonan turned toward the older man, scanning his collar for signs of the pins that indicated a court sorcerer. He did not find any, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. His vision as beginning to blur, making it difficult to make out any details of the man’s appearance.

This is intriguing, but not what I’m looking for. I need to get out of here.
Jonan glanced around the room. There were multiple closed windows, but only the double doors leading back into the main structure.

Unwilling to chance the windows, Jonan inched back toward the door. A loud knock on the wood sent him stumbling backward, and he barely managed to catch himself from falling.

“Sir, there’s a court sorceress here. She’s asking a lot of questions, I think you might want to come down,” came a female voice from the other side.

The older man shook his head, touching the sleeping child on the forehead – Jonan winced at that, hoping the disease was not communicable – and stood up with a groan.

“Fine,” the gray haired man said softly, probably too softly for the speaker on the other side to hear him. With deliberate steps, he made his way to the door and opened it.

The Rethri sorceress was on the other side.

Of course she was.

Jonan froze, uncertain if he should try to slip past in the few moments it was open. He hesitated too long, the door closing, the Rethri’s eyes once again flickering in his mind.

Creepy sorceress is following me. That can’t be a coincidence. I am most likely doomed.

Jonan waited in the room for several more minutes, pacing closer to the unconscious children and inspecting the remainder of the chamber. He found a few books sitting on chairs or tables next to the children, but they were all on various medical subjects. None of the children looked malnourished, but they were all pale-skinned, and most of them had ragged breathing.

Odd that none of them woke up when that man – the doctor, maybe – came in. Maybe they’re using potions or sorcery to keep the children asleep.

Before inspecting the children further, Jonan reached into his pouch and removed one of his mirrors. He ran a finger across the surface, attuning it to transmit to another mirror, and found a good vantage point to leave it on a table across from the entrance door. The chamber was too large for one mirror to visualize the entire room, but if it faced the door he could monitor who was coming or going.

Minutes passed while Jonan considered when it would be best to leave the chamber. As his mind whirled with possibilities, he realized that he had made a blind assumption – and reached into his pouch for a pair of gloves.

With the utmost hesitation, Jonan used his gloved fingers to open an eye of one of the sleeping children – and stepped back when he saw a pale orb of blue surrounding black, with no sclera at all.

Oh, gods, I’ve been so stupid, Jonan chastised himself. The children are Rethri. Or, at least some of them are.

He briefly considered opening the eye again and using a mirror to record the picture, but the door to the room began to open before he had a chance.

And then the room went black, the light from the nearby windows utterly annihilated.

Jonan instinctively tapped the right side of his head, triggering his spell to see in the dark. It gave him nothing but mere outlines – whatever spell was starving the place of light was exceptionally thorough.

He did, however, see a woman – her body seemingly formed from something darker than the blackness of the room – seeping in the now-open doorway.

“I know you are here,” she said aloud, her voice like honey tinged with venom. She drew something from within her robes – a knife, maybe – and stood to block the doorway. “Show yourself, sorcerer. I would rather speak than fight.”

Sure you would.
Jonan’s mind raced, evaluating possibilities.
If these are Rethri children, are they Donovan’s prisoners? Or the children of the prisoners, perhaps? I don’t remember any reports about missing children.

I’m going to regret this.

“I’ll confirm my presence,” Jonan said aloud, maintaining his concentration to continue his invisibility spell. “But I’d rather not show myself. I assume you can see through your own shadows, so it’s only fair.”

The Rethri woman turned toward the sound of his voice, flipping over the object in her hand.

Yep, definitely a dagger. And she’s prepping a throw.
He took a quick step to the side, putting himself behind one of the privacy curtains. There was no child in the bed behind that particular curtain, but he hoped she wouldn’t realize that. If she was Rethri, he doubted she’d be willing to chance a throw at him while he was potentially standing over a Rethri child.