Sourcethief (Book 3) (10 page)

"No. Go order someone yourself. I oversee the
emperor's affairs, not yours. Now stop a moment and tell me what that little
tantrum was about."

Rashan stopped and turned halfway, not quite facing
Kyrus but at least giving him full attention.

"Faolen did quite a nice job."

"Faolen?"

"Nihaxtukali," Rashan said, fluently
pronouncing Jadefire's draconic name. "No one else working on the pageant
could have known what she looked like. Aside from being thrice the size—monster
though she was—the likeness was perfect. You saw her as well, or at least the
real Brannis did."

"I suppose I had much the same view when she
dove at Brannis. But you know as well as anyone that none of this was real.
There must be some other reason."

"Reason? Brannis, I kill things.
That
is
what I do. Some instinct in me thought better of taking a chance and I reacted.
If you want to know the difference between me and all those warlocks who died
too young, there you have it. I kill. I have many regrets, but I have
lived
to regret them. I have
killed
to regret them."

"And you became a demon," Kyrus added.

"I was the oldest warlock in Kadrin history
before that. This is my retirement," Rashan said with a rueful smile.

"You spend too much time out there, hunting
Megrenn's allies. Maybe you should consider offering them terms of
surrender."

"Fools fail to learn from their mistakes. I
spared them once, and—"

"And they rebelled a hundred winters
later."

"And I will not have it happen again,"
Rashan said. "Only in story books does sparing the life of an enemy come
back to reward you."

The warlock turned to leave, and this time, Kyrus
chose not to follow.

* * * * * * *
*

The
Black Gull
drifted over the water of
Kadris Harbor, her crew dallying to watch the end of the Founding Day pageant.
Though Captain Aroush had given Tanner no trouble about Sir Brannis's orders,
he had dragged out the preparations for departure much longer than expected.
Tanner had wanted to be well away from the city before the pageant’s end. It
had acted as an admirable cover for their crossing of the city. In plain view
of everyone, no one had noticed a man and his 'son' on the unlit streets of
Kadris.

"You enjoying the show?" Tanner asked. The
young boy had his face through the wide rope mesh that protected the sailors
from falling overboard. Tanner hung on by one of the ropes.

"Yes."

"Just watch, the best part is coming."

They watched as the dragon over Raynesdark was
struck by lightning, though from so far away Tanner had no idea whose magic had
done it. He had seen enough Founding Day pageants in his youth to know that the
lightning was an unusual addition to the show.

As the illusions of the Battle of Raynesdark
cleared, the city darkened. The moon and stars were blotted out as if a sudden
storm had covered them with clouds. With all the lights dimmed to better view
the illusions, Kadris was as black as the bottom of a well. A hush fell over
the city.

In the sky, a single figure appeared. It was
enormous, dwarfing even the great dragon. He was muscular, with a white beard
and a bare chest. As his arms swept out wide, the pall of darkness gradually
lifted, light spreading out from him like a ripple on still water.

A great voice boomed across the city.

"I PROCLAIM THIS LAND KADRIN. I CLAIM IT FOR MY
CHILDREN AND THEIR DESCENDANTS FOR ALL TIME. PROSPER AND SPREAD YOUR GREATNESS
ACROSS ALL LANDS."

"Tallax!"Anzik exclaimed. It was the first
time Tanner had seen the boy show any excitement.

"No, that's not Tallax. That's supposed to be
Drendath Kadrin, founder of the empire." Tanner said, correcting the boy's
misplaced assumption.

"It is! That's Tallax," Anzik insisted.

"I'm telling you ..." Tanner stopped
himself, realizing the argument was pointless. Anzik Fehr would believe as he
chose.

As the apparition of Drendath Kadrin faded to the
sound of thunderous cheering, Tanner looked out to sea. They had no course,
just a plan to get away from the city. Tanner was supposed to update their
orders once they were well clear. He would need a night's sleep, and information
from Denrik Zayne, before he could do that.

Tanner went to find his bunk. He had a pirate to
bargain with.

"It was nice to see a bit of countryside from
the back of a horse," Soria said as she handed her reins to the stableboy.
"We should do it more often. Scar Harbor's getting so dreary now that the
weather's turning."

"Well, Golis will be little different. More
people maybe, but just as cold," Brannis said. He flipped the boy a
hundred eckle coin to cover the care of both their mounts while they were in
the city. "Once we finish up our business in Acardia, we can sail
someplace nice and warm. Maybe that trip to see Khesh?"

Soria glared at him sidelong as she took his arm.
She leaned close as they walked away from the stable.

"Erund, you're supposed to know all about
Khesh, remember?"

"Fine, but no one here is going to care. Plus,
I would not put it past Davin to realize who I really am."

Soria grinned at that. "So who are you,
really?"

Brannis glared back but could not argue. He had been
caught thinking of himself and Kyrus interchangeably, just as Soria had
predicted he would. There was no way Davin could know he was Brannis Solaran.

"I was in a bit of a rush last time I was here.
Do you think we could go a bit out of our way? There's someplace I want to
see," Soria asked.

"Sure, where are we heading?"

"Temple Square."

While not technically on the way, it was also not
far from it. Centuries prior, the old square was the heart of Golis. The paving
stones they walked across were the only part that was maintained by the
Acardian government. The statuary was all original, hundreds of years old—their
precise age lost to the poor recordkeeping of an earlier era. Brannis could
little help but gawk up at them.

"Moloun, Ptaw, Eziel, Jharoun," Soria
began counting them off, pointing to each two-story statue in turn.
"Hanrah, Melethaw, I think the ruined one should have been Anpah; he would
have been a fat one in a ram-headed helm; Tolosha, Mtar, Renru, Dhakoun. And of
course, Tansha, Goddess of Mercy." Each of the statues stood alone atop a
marble block the size of a wagon, with steps leading up on all sides. Brannis
followed Soria up to the statue of Tansha.

"Was she ... I mean was that—"

"Yes. My parents were worshipers of
Tansha," Soria said, reaching up to caress the statue's foot. She stared
up into the goddess's face, which appeared to stare back. Each of the gods was
posed to suggest some aspect of their dominion. Tansha was a patron of the
meek, thus she gazed down upon them.

"I never thought much about the old Garnevian
gods. Hard to imagine folk still believe in them."

Soria's head whipped around, brow furrowed. Brannis
was shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor. He stumbled back a step,
nearly losing his balance on the stairs.

"I suppose I should expect that, even from
you," she said. Soria took a breath and relaxed her features.

"You ... believe in them?" Brannis asked.

She nodded. "As far back as I can
remember."

"But you know how magic works. How can you
still ascribe that to divine powers?"

"I don't know how magic works," Soria
replied. "Neither do you. We know it works, we can use it, but I'll be
gutted if I know how."

"So ... Tansha?"

"No, it's not that simple. It's just that there
is more to magic than a draw and some thoughts. I don't need to know how it
works, just trust that it does."

"What makes you so certain? If I knew magic as
a boy as Kyrus knows it now, I certainly would not seek any further power
beyond it."

Soria looked about. The square was nearly empty, but
she came halfway down the steps to stand right next to Brannis.

"Two things I've asked her for—two things that
would never have come to me otherwise. I asked for plenty of greedier and more
selfish things too, but these two convinced me."

"What things?"

"First, I asked her for a playmate. Someone who
didn't care that I was different, someone to make me feel safe. I was a little
foreign girl being raised among Kheshi. She gave me Juliana."

"Yes, but that—"

"No 'buts,' you don't know how we became twinborn
any better than I do. The other thing I asked her for was you." She
reached up to kiss Brannis and he put his arms around her, feeling the tension
ease from her muscles. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.
"I don't know how she does it ... doesn't matter."

Soria pushed herself gently away from Brannis. He
looked down and matched the smile he saw. A sharp blow to his shoulder startled
him from his reverie.

"Ow. What was that for?" Brannis asked. He
rubbed at the spot she had struck, wishing that he had thought better of
traveling without armor.

"For making me wait five years longer than I
should have. Kyrus should have switched places with you when you were
boys."

"You think I liked growing up a misfit? Being
the only one at the Academy without a sniff of a draw? I would have traded
places with Kyrus in an instant."

"Well, as long as we agree that you spent at
least five years keeping my prayers from being answered, then I'm
satisfied." Soria hooked her arm through Brannis's and began to tow him
out of Temple Square.

"There is something you need to explain to
me," Brannis said as he allowed himself to be pulled along. "If you
worship the goddess of mercy, how can you work as a coinblade?"

"It was a picture book, Brannis. I knew
Tansha's name, and to pray to her. I learned to pronounce the names under the
gods' pictures, but I couldn't read Acardian. It's not like I was brought up a
pacifist. When a goddess answers your prayers, who cares what it says in her
book?"

* * * * * * *
*

Acardia's royal palace was hardly worth the
appellation. It stood three stories, all meticulously whitewashed stone, with
glass windows and a red-clay tiled roof. It had a small courtyard in front that
was brown and leafless, save for a few evergreen shrubs. The palace and all of
the grounds would have just about fit within the center courtyard of the
imperial palace in Kadris.

Brannis and Soria arrived at the gates to find them
flanked by a pair of guardsmen arrayed in blue and white. Neither was armed
beyond the truncheon hanging at his side.

"Halt. State your business."

"Hello, I am an old acquaintance of his
majesty's scribe, Expert Davin," Brannis said.

"No blades within the palace, I'm afraid,
sir," the guard said, pointing at Avalanche sheathed on Brannis's hip.
Drat.
I cannot let them handle Avalanche. Too dangerous if they get curious and draw
it.

"Quite all right, I assure you. I was just
hoping to give him a message and to see if he has time to meet with me."
Brannis handed the man a small wooden tube that was capped in copper at either
end.
Contingencies, contingencies ... Your paranoia is rubbing off on me,
Rashan. But thank you, this once.

The guard looked the tube over. "I'll have to
open it." Brannis nodded his assent. A moment's inspection satisfied the man,
and he sealed up the tube once more. "What name shall I give Expert
Davin?"

"I am Erund Hinterdale. This is my wife,
Soria." Brannis smiled, hoping that he had not stumbled over the
introduction.

"Very well sir. Are you staying nearby?"

"We have a room at The Golden Elk."

The guard perked up at the news. The Golden Elk was
not a place for the light of purse.

* * * * * * *
*

"Well, that just fills out our day now, doesn't
it?" Soria said. She took off her long coat and hung it on a peg near the
door of their rented room. "Your friend Davin works for the king, which
means his hours are whatever King Gorden decides they are. He could send for us
any moment, or be busy until midnight."

"King Gorden is an old man. How late can he be
about?"

"Yes, but it's not even noontime yet. We're
just stuck here waiting for word." Soria crossed her arms in front of her,
lean muscle and calloused hands against delicate pale blue silk.

Brannis glanced about the room, looking left, then
right, then twisting about to look behind him. He gave the ceiling and floor
each a quick examination as well, before turning his attention back to Soria.
He looked her top to bottom and back again.

"I have no idea how we can busy ourselves all
that time," Brannis said with a widening grin.

* * * * * * *
*

The horse's trotting gait upon the cobblestones was
enough advanced warning for Brannis and Soria to make themselves presentable. A
half-empty bowl of fruit sat upon the bedside table next to another bowl
bearing apple cores and grape stems—all either of them had eaten as they
waited.

"Royal seal on the carriage," Brannis said
as he peered out the window. The royal hawk was painted in gold, holding the
broken ends of a sword in its claws. "Either it came for us, or the
clientele here is better connected than I had realized."

"Saves us the trouble of worrying about dinner.
No nobleman would be crass enough to summon us at dinner hour and not provide a
meal."

"Davin is no nobleman. He is the king's scribe.
I assume he just asked the favor of a carriage. He has no money for one
himself."

"Being the king's scribe must pay well,"
Soria said.

"For a scribe perhaps," Brannis replied.
He was just about to buckle on his sword belt when he thought better of it. He
wrapped the belt around the sheath and handed the bundle to Soria.

"What do I want with that thing? I feel safer
fighting without a weapon that I could cut myself in half with."

"Ward it up in one of the dresser
drawers," Brannis told her. "If we end up at the palace, I would
rather it be safely here than held by the king's guards."

Soria's own blades were already stored in one of the
drawers beneath a stack of finery. She tried several times to fit Avalanche
inside as well but abandoned the effort with a sigh.

"It won't fit. I can't ward it in," she
said. Brannis was about to say something but she raised her hand. "And no,
I can't make the sword smaller or the drawer bigger. Go ask Caladris if you
want that sort of magic."

"You mean Lord Harwick."

"I meant Caladris," Soria replied,
sticking her tongue out at Brannis as punctuation.

Brannis looked about the room. Finding no other
suitable place to stash the sword, he unsheathed it. Holding the blade
carefully by the hilt and near the tip, he hopped, blade held overhead. He let
it go just above one of the dark-stained rafters, buckled  and looped the sword
belt around the blade, and balanced the sheath as best he could upon the
rafter.

"Best I can think of on short notice,"
Brannis said.

"Yeah ... come on, military genius. We've gotta
go."

Brannis thought better of protesting as she took the
lead down the stairs to meet the carriage. The narrow stairwell forced them
single file.
This is my errand ... my friend. Why does she seem to always
lead the way?

A footman greeted them and informed them that Expert
Davin would indeed be receiving them at the palace. Soria shook loose of his
attempt to help her into the carriage, and Brannis climbed in behind her with a
nod of apology for her unladylike behavior.

As the carriage rumbled off into the streets of
Golis, Brannis looked out the window. They were not going back the way that he
and Soria had come. Brannis had thought it to be the quickest way from the
palace.

"Excuse me, but is this a better way to reach
the palace?" Brannis called out to the driver.

"Expert Davin requested I give you a bit of a
show about the city, if you please," the driver informed them. "Lots
of history he said you'd appreciate, and I know my way around well as
any."

Brannis beamed at Soria.

"Of course," she answered, rolling her
eyes. She leaned in close to Brannis. "This is the man who was like a
father to you?" she asked in a whisper. Brannis nodded, still smiling.
"I’m beginning to see where you got your tastes."

* * * * * * *
*

Soria was fidgeting by the time the carriage pulled
through the palace gates. Brannis knew that the tour of Golis was of little
interest to her. Having seen the mighty cities of Khesh and Takalia and living
in the vastness of Kadris, Soria must have found local trivia frightfully
boring. She had perked up when their driver had taken them back through Temple
Square, and had known more about the old gods than just their names and
likenesses. After that she had become disinterested.

Brannis had thought to take her to the museum before
they left Golis, but when they had passed by it, she slouched in her seat and
did not so much as look at it.
Saved me a half day of boring her, I suppose
.

Once they arrived at the palace, the footman left
them in a small sitting room with tea. The furnishings were sturdy and of fine
quality, but not ornate—the tea set was pewter, the rug a simple pattern of
local styling, the pictures on the walls looked like they were painted by an
enthusiastic amateur—all portraits seemingly of the same old man.