The Blood Sigil (The Sigilord Chronicles Book 2) (7 page)

The image of Vogon paced back and forth in the room in Urus's memory. Vogon turned and waved his hand. Pain and bright light smothered Urus. He raised his arms and squeezed his eyes shut to shield against the light. A moment later the light faded and Urus opened his eyes to find himself back in the council chambers, back on trial in that beautiful, terrible place. Even though he no was no longer reliving the memories, the pain of them remained, both physical and emotional.

"The boy used an avatar knight, a summoning of pure sigilcraft, to kill his own father," said one councilor. "It wasn't even sigil-bound!"

"He almost agreed to join forces with the Order in exchange for the gift of hearing," said another. "Can you imagine? The power of a sigilord at the behest of the likes of Draegon?"

"That's not how it happened," Urus pleaded. "I wasn't ever going to—"

"Silence," Vogon shouted, thrusting his palm forward.
 

"He used a destruction sigil, with no thought to its effect on the fabric," another councilor added. "Such a thing is an abomination, an affront to everything for which we stand."

"You are all overlooking another vitally important fact," another councillor added before returning to his seat. "His sigils are blue."

"The fact remains that his actions broke the vertex ward, and thus violated the Continuum Protection Act. The law is clear on this," said one of the council members.

"He was attempting to preserve the seal. He also defeated the most infamous of blood mage sects," argued another.

"I think we all know he is guilty. The only question that remains is that of his sentence."

"Indeed," said Vogon. "Guilt is not open for discussion, only judgment." He turned to the prisoner. "Urus, the council must deliberate on your sentence. This is a serious matter and deserves our full attention, without distraction."

Vogon led a procession out of the room through a door behind the council chairs. A moment later Urus stood alone, save for the four guards standing watch in the chamber.

Absently playing with the chain that bound him to the post, he studied his hands, remembering what it felt like to have the surging blue power of the sigilords running through his fingertips. Due to the iron collar he wore, he could no longer use the power, but he couldn't help but admit that he missed the feeling, the rush of heat and raw power.

As he awaited judgment of his fate by strange people in a strange world, he longed for the desert. He longed for the dry air, the warm winds of the desert night, and he missed the palace, especially its kitchens and the ever-present smell of devil's cinnamon.
 

Finally, as Urus was stretching his leg to keep it from cramping, the council returned to the chamber, somber looks on their faces.

This is it,
he thought.
This is when I find out what they're going to do to me
. There was so much left to see, to learn and explore—so many things Urus dreamed of doing without a sword or knife or battle that he would never get to do from inside a cell.

"Urus Noellor," Vogon said.

Urus took a step forward.
 

"The Council of Balance has made a decision in your case. Know that all that this council does, we do to preserve the balance. If any of the universes are allowed to shift too far toward any extreme, be it chaos or order, good or evil, the balance must be restored. It is the mandate of this council to observe and to restore the balance should it be lost."

Vogon took a deep breath and interlaced his fingers, rubbing his thumbs together. "The council has decided that, despite your lack of intent and knowledge of our laws governing sigilcraft, you are subject to the edicts pertaining to the subjugation and removal of the species—"
 

Urus stopped him, taking another step forward. "You have laws for subjugating and removing sigilords? What does that even mean?"

"Silence!" Vogon shouted, slamming his fists on the throne hard enough that the anger reverberated through Urus's boots. "As I was saying, this council has found you guilty of fomenting chaos, of altering the true and natural balance of the multiverse, and of violating the Continuum Protection Act, which decrees that all sigilcraft is a danger to the continuum."

Urus held his tongue.
Subjugation of sigilords? Why would they have laws against being a sigilord? How can simply being a thing be against the law?

"You understand that what we do here is for the good of the multiverse, to preserve the balance each universe seeks out naturally?"

Urus nodded. "I understand
what
you do, but I don't understand
why
. I also don't understand what gives you the right to sit there and pass judgment on me. Who entrusted this balance to you? Who named you judge of what is and is not good for the universe?"

"Impudent wretch!" Vogon shouted. "You dare defy this council?"

Urus gave Vogon a wry grin. "I do."

"Your insolence is further proof of your guilt," Vogon pronounced, his face grim, his jaw clenched. "Since we have now seen proof that you choose to wield sigilcraft without thought or concern for the consequences, we deem you a severe and immediate threat to the balance. Your sentence will be carried out at dawn."

"What sentence is that?"

Vogon stood and smoothed his robes. "Death."

Chapter Five

Cailix sat on the back of the wagon kicking her legs back and forth, her back resting against a bale of hay. All of the grain had been loaded, Drayna was off getting the last of the eggs, and Bayard was who-knows-where. He always seemed to disappear whenever there was hard work that needed to be done.

"Where's that fool boy Colin?" Miss Orla shouted, tossing a bound sack of wool up onto the heap in the back of the carriage. "I'm not waiting for him or his family. If I'm late and all the buyers get full up and don't want any of my wares, I'll take it out of that boy's hide."

Orla was exaggerating, as usual—nothing would be taken out of anyone's hide, no matter how mad Orla got.

 
"There will be plenty of buyers this time, Miss Orla," Cailix said. "The harbors are full, and there are more sailors than there are supplies for them. You should consider raising your prices from last time since there will be so much demand."

Woss came out of the house and climbed up into the wagon, taking the reins. "The Denns have until Drayna and Bayard get back, but that's it. After that we're leaving, with or without them."

They didn't have to wait long. The Denns' wagon appeared over the ridge and the two horses pulling it trotted to a stop right behind their wagon. Colin sat next to his younger brother, Ben, each of them holding an overfull bushel of apples. He and Ben dismounted the wagon and unloaded the apples, leaving them on the front step.

"What's this all about?" Orla asked, hand on her hip.

"We heard that you wanted to make some pies and didn't have any apples, so we brought you some," Colin said, beaming proudly.

"What would give you the fool idea that—"
 

Cailix cut her off, flashing her a warning frown.

"I see," Orla said. "Well, thank you so much for the kind gesture. We sure do appreciate it."

Colin grinned and swung up onto the wagon next to Cailix.

"Cailix, can I see you for a minute before we head out?" Orla said, summoning her over to the bushels of apples.

Reluctantly, Cailix approached.

"You wanna tell me what this is all about?" she whispered. "I don't need no apples; I got four bushels in our cellar already. We're gonna be eatin' apple pie, apple dumplings, and drinkin' apple cider 'till we all turn ourselves into apples."

Cailix couldn't reveal that the apples had just been a distraction to keep Colin away from her and her activities in the cave. Cailix glanced back at Colin and smiled, then back to Orla, flashing her best, well-practiced innocent smile, letting Orla come to her own conclusions.
 

"That boy's sweet on you, ain't he?" the farm woman asked.

Cailix faked her best blush, mimicking the motions of awkwardly kicking at the dirt as she had seen so many other children do. Miss Orla chuckled and let out a little whistle. "And you're lettin' him fetch you things you don't need, just so he can do something nice for us?"

Cailix nodded.

"Well girl, I don't know what sorta game you're after, but you best be careful."

"I'll be all right," Cailix said.

"I ain't worried about you, dear, I'm worried about that poor boy," Orla said, walking away and shaking her head. She climbed into the seat next to her husband, and Cailix returned to her spot in the back of the wagon.

"Hyah!" Woss shouted, and the wagons lumbered up the gravel-coated road, heading northeast. It was the only road on that part of the island. Traveling on the damp, grassy plains with a laden wagon was just asking to get stuck, so a few roads were the only way to get burdened wagons filled with supplies anywhere on the island.

Just under two hours later they crested a hill overlooking the central valley that held the capital city of Aldsdowne island, a city by the same name. It was also pretty much the only city, as all the other clusters of buildings on the island could barely pass for small villages.

The fields approaching the western wall of the city were normally littered with farm animals, children playing field games, and whatever temporary activity had been set up. That day's activity was the grand market, and everyone on the island who had anything at all of value to sell had set up shop outside the wall. Hundreds of sailors and anybody else who happened to be on a ship moored around the island milled around in the market.

"Let's go make some money," Woss said, making a clucking noise and urging the horses down the hill.

The day passed as agonizingly slowly as Cailix expected it would: hawking their wares to every passerby, trying to convince every sailor who crossed their path that Jepps wool was softer and Jepps eggs were tastier than the products of the other twenty farmers also selling wool and eggs. Thankfully they also had a few dairy cattle, so they were one of the few families on the island who could produce milk and cheese, which sold out before they had even finished setting up their market tent.

As dusk approached and the torches illuminating the makeshift market streets were lit, Cailix couldn't stand the boredom any longer.

"Can I go walk around and see the other shops in the market?" she asked. "We've barely anything left to sell so you don't need my help."

"All right," Orla said, "But you be back here before the market starts closing up. Don't make me come looking for you."

"Yes, Momma," Cailix said, figuring it was the right time to use that word again. The breadth of Orla's smile told her she was right.

"Want some company?" Colin asked, able to overhear everything since the Denns' tent was adjacent to theirs.

Still within earshot of Orla, Cailix had to maintain the charade with Colin. "I suppose if you want to tag along."

They walked in a silence that probably felt awkward to Colin, meandering through the market streets. Most of it was as boring as her own tent—wool, supplies, tools, spices, fresh produce, salted meats, even a few farmers selling livestock to be butchered aboard ship once the buyers left port.

She hoped to see something,
anything
, that would take her out of the doldrums of life on the farm.

"Farmer Tyk's wife has been making jewelry recently, she's got a tent set up on the outskirts."

"That's nice," Cailix said, barely paying attention. She kept walking, Colin in tow like a lost puppy.

After another long walk, and a close call nearly stepping in a pile of manure, they found themselves on the far western edge of the market and near Miss Tyk's tent.

"See, I told you she was selling jewelry out here," Colin said, trying as casually as he could to steer her toward the display.

Grudgingly, Cailix let herself be guided in. She felt like a fish pretending to go after the bait, taunting the fisherman. Once she was sure Colin's affections were no longer useful, she needed to find a way to divert his attention to someone else.

"Hoy there, Colin, good to see you. I trust your pa's managed to sell his haul today?" Miss Tyk asked with a smile. She was a big bear of a woman with a tiny fairy's voice. "There's been so many customers I've got hardly anything left."

Colin smiled and blushed a little, finally asking if she had anything that might look good on Cailix.

"Oh, I'm sorry dearie, I've sold most of what I had that would look nice on as pretty a girl as you."

Colin frowned and turned to leave but the rotund woman made a squeaking noise like a squirrel.

"I do have a stone that's almost the same color as your hair. Folks around here call it bloodstone. Under the right light the red stone gets almost purple and, when you look through it, the morning dew looks like drops of blood. Most folks find that kind of thing ugly."

Miss Tyk held up a little burgundy obelisk strung on a simple chain.

"That's gross," Colin said.

"It's beautiful," Cailix said.