Chapter 22: A Reprieve
Kalen instinctively closed his mouth, clamped his eyes tight shut, and even managed to squeeze his nose with one hand as he tumbled towards the canal. In some dim corner of his mind he realized that he had lost one of those damnable clogs.
As the air rushed past him, he wasn’t aware of the gasps and cries of those who saw him fall -- and above it all, Jad screaming his name. He also didn’t hear Lukas shout out a phrase in some unintelligible language
He did feel a sudden lurch and then a tingling over his entire body. He had stopped falling! Without even thinking, he opened his eyes and -- instead of the water he expected to see -- he was hanging a few feet above the upward-looking Lukas, who had his arms out as if the Viscount was expecting him to appear there. But Kalen only hovered there only for an instant: he dropped out of the air like a rock, and the two young men fell together on the deck on a sprawl of limbs.
“Oof! Kalen, get off!” Lukas yelped, though he had his arms around the Marquess. He whispered in Kalen’s ear “Sorry about that, but my Leaving spell is still a bit iffy.” They were both unharmed, though Kalen was shivering. “I would have sent you to the other boat but I couldn’t be sure you’d land right, with your velocity and all.”
They struggled to get on their feet while the crowd around them tittered in wonderment. A couple of servants came forward to help them up, but an Elf with a streak of grey in his long black hair pushed the attendants aside and pulled the boys up with surprising strength. “Nice way to make a scene! Now, get off the barge, and back to your rooms!” He hissed. “Maas has his goons ready to snatch you both!” Then he pushed them towards the stairway.
Kalen looked across the canal, but the barge carrying Jad and the others had moved ahead of them and across the Great Canal. He waved to his cousin, who waved both arms back frantically and called out to him. But Kalen could barely hear him over the noise of the party. He saw Jad trying to get to the stairway on the other barge, but then his view was cut off as another boat moved between them.
“We’ll never catch up to them,” Lukas muttered, following Kalen’s anxious gaze. “Better to do as we’re told, go home and lock the door.” Lukas swung over the deck rail and started down the narrow steps to the skiff platform.
“Who was that man?” Kalen followed the Viscount. “Surely it’s not as bad as that…” Kalen’s voice trailed off as he looked back up and saw several people leaning over the railing. One youth stared back down at him with a predatory smile. It was Seylars, the Red Dragon member he had encountered in a dark alley the other night, but now dressed in party finery. Kalen turned and staggered down onto the little landing even as a skiff poled up. It was that bad. “Let’s get out of here!”
Andraax blinked, then glanced at his right bicep where black fabric gaped and his flesh bled along the thin slash of a cut. The autoarmor suit would take care of that momentarily; though at his age even a scratch such as this would take some time to heal completely using K’ta’viir technology. Fortunately he knew other ways.
He deactivated his power sword and clipped to his belt as he had done ten thousand times before. Then he surveyed the clearing around him. The silence -- after the humming of the power sword was turned off – was eerie. But the growing stench more than made up for any audio sensory deprivation. It was night, but Andraax, with his superior vision, could see as well as any mortal could in full day.
Strewn about on the trampled brown grass -- now stained with steaming black and ochre blood -- were perhaps a dozen Sucathu and at least three Breathless. It was difficult to tell exactly how many, with all the scattered body parts: claws and heads and limbs. Many were still oozing the thick, acrid-smelling fluid that for them passed for blood; the Essænce Lord’s attacks were so swift that the energy blade didn’t even cauterize the flesh as it usually did.
He had no recollection of this fight, no memory of coming here. Where was here?
It was getting bad again.
When would the dismembered bodies be humans or Elves instead of demons… innocents rather than unholy creatures? He knew that eventually his other self would stop distinguishing between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and simply purge the world of all who are not of the ‘true race.’
How much longer? If he believed in gods, he would be tempted to pray. How comforting to the people of the world, to place their trust and faith in some assumed higher power, Though he supposed here they might actually have a chance of being aided by one of the non-corporeal beings on Orhan, as opposed to the poor superstitious fools on other worlds who actually belong to vast organized ‘religions’ dedicated to some sort of all-powerful beings who didn’t even exist, curbing their baser desires not because it was the moral thing to do, but in fear of some kind of retribution is some vague eternal afterlife. How sadly disappointed they would be to discover upon their death that there is no mystical afterlife… if only their awareness would last long enough for that awakening before the neurons stopped firing and their consciousness was lost to the universe.
And where in the Pales was he? He hated not remembering where he’d Teleported himself to. He looked up at the night sky and examined the stars. Probably Folenn again.
Well, a few less demons, and that looks like a Jewel Well not far. Lucky for me, I need to recharge.
Back on the Tharal Barge, Agonar watched dispassionately as the Rhakhaan youths boarded a skiff and pushed out into the canal. He noted Seylars’ presence, and observed a couple of other suspicious-looking youths before moving away from the railing to a (relatively) quiet corner of the deck to think. Why is Koren Maas willing to risk his position here -- not to mention his reputation as an impartial Truthsayer -- to capture these boys from Jaiman? Using the Essænce to control another being, much less a foreign dignitary, was against the law here in Sel-kai, as it was in most civilized places. Only in extenuating circumstances was it permitted: self-defense, subdual of a suspected criminal, situations of that nature. Not, of course, that it stopped the Lord of Teusilya from regularly employing his powers whenever he saw fit. But as long as he didn’t get caught…
And Maas had inadvertently revealed (at least to Agonar) his connection with the Red Dragons. There was another thread here too; at least one. Something even bigger. Interesting.
Agonar did not bother to turn around as he sensed the presence behind him. “Ah, there you are, Loremaster, lurking in the shadows and waiting for others to take action, as usual. I believe I rescued your Rhakhaanian brats from a rather unpleasant visit to the Justiciary. Our Security Minister took an interest in one of them.”
“So I saw.” Randae said softly, watching Koren Maas storm off the deck. “And I wasn’t aware that Mentalism was included among your Essænce aptitudes.”
“It’s not.” The Lord of Teusilya turned then, still not smiling. “But after awhile you develop a sort of sixth sense. I just knew you were there. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“Just so.” The Loremaster nodded. “And thank you for disabling Minister Maas. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“Well, it was a bit of a blunt instrument, and no doubt the Security Ministry will engage in discreet-yet-urgent investigations into the use of attack spells on family barges, but not much will come of it officially. I suspect now that Maas has too much to hide to pursue it too far. And I have friends in… higher places.” Agonar smiled tightly.
“Do you think he would have really taken the boy to the Justiciary for questioning against his will?” Randae moved in closer, glancing about warily.
“He had the youth alone; he could have spirited him away and gotten what information he needed then dumped him somewhere with his memory of the night’s interrogations erased. Mass -- like most Itanian Warlocks -- is a formidable Mentalist, not to be underestimated.”
“Even then, a risky move with foreign nobility. And for a Truthsayer! If it was discovered, he could damage the reputation of all the Itanian Truthsayers.” Assuming that information was even what the Security Minister had wanted. Things are spinning out of control here. From what Veriak -- and Hiiri -- have told me about these boys, it might be best to get them away from Sel-kai sooner than later.
“I don’t think it would be the first time that Maas has used his powers in a manner that exceeded the mandate of the Truthsayers, not to mention his authority as Security Minister. I wonder what sparked an interest in this youth from Jaiman?” The Lord raised an eyebrow. “When you came to see me the other evening, we spoke of one particular threat; is this boy related in some way to that, or are you also here in Sel-kai to baby-sit these children? If the latter, you’re doing a pretty poor job, I must say.”
Randae pursed his lips. “Originally my visit here was unrelated to theirs, but I have taken an interest in them. And as for whether they have any connection to that other situation, I am not certain. I have no hard evidence that they are, but I have received some compelling hints.”
“In either case, I suggest you keep a closer eye on them, if Maas has such a keen interest. They might be better off going back home to a war zone than staying here amid the intrigues of Sel-kai. It is a dangerous city for those who do not know their way among the bridges.” Agonar’s eyes narrowed as he apparently spotted something over Randae’s shoulder. “I will take my leave of you now; the hive is stirring. Again, I urge you to look after those boys. If Maas was desperate enough to try something on a merchant’s barge, there isn’t much he won’t do. And he seems to be in league with the Red Dragons as well.”
“The Red Dragons? Who are they?” Randae looked alarmed.
“Ask your Changramai friend.” Agonar smirked, and then snapped his fingers. A faint golden spark flashed at his fingertips, and he was gone.
So the Lord Agonar is a master of Channeling as well; that had the look of a Returning spell. Shouts and pounding feet echoed on the boards behind Randae. He spun about to see several men in dark grey tunics fanning out across the deck, with Koren Maas on the upper balcony above barking orders. Startled guests hurried to get out of the way. This was beginning to look ugly. The Loremaster began a quick Long Door spell -- and felt it falter and collapse before the Door fully opened. Strange, he thought. Could the remnants of that Flow Storm still be interfering with the Essænce? He cast again, devoting more energy to the spell, and as the Security men moved closer to his location, the Door unfolded. He stepped through to his room at the Manse and the Long Door collapsed behind him even as he heard someone shout “Stop, Mage!”
Though Kalen wanted to search the canals for Jad’s barge, Lukas convinced him that at this hour, with the tangle of boats on the water, it would be nearly impossible to get to the other barge. The Viscount insisted on escorting Kalen to his hotel, for which the Marquess was secretly grateful. Too many strange things had happened this evening, and Lukas was one of the few people in this city that he felt he could trust at all. The only one he could trust completely was, of course, his cousin.
Only when they were well away from the procession did Lukas seem to relax. Kalen himself began to feel better; the strange chill from the spell was wearing off, and it was somehow relaxing to just sit on this small boat as the young female operator poled it in a steady rhythm: plant the pole, walk the length of the boat; raise the pole, walk forward and repeat. He looked across the skiff at the Viscount, now lounging over the bench. “You are full of surprises, Lord Ridgeston. First a Shock Bolt back on the Naristral and now you cast a spell like the Navigators themselves use!”
“You give me far too much credit, Avanir.” Lukas answered with a little laugh. “There are many kinds of translocation spells, and Leaving is the least of those, with many limitations. I have not even fully mastered that, but I figured you could hardly be in a worse spot. It’s much harder -- almost impossible, in fact -- to accidentally materialize someone inside a solid object using Leaving than, for instance, a true Teleport spell. But I had to either bring you back to me or risk you appearing somewhere else over the canal, or worse, fifty feet higher in the air. To be honest, I was surprised it worked at all, since I had to cast it without the usual preparation, and after having a… few… glasses of wine.” Lukas smiled slyly.
Kalen was more than a little alarmed that Lukas had tried something that sounded so perilous. It must have shown on his face.
“Believe me, Kalen, you were in no additional danger. I limited the range, so it’s not like you could have appeared a hundred feet in the air. If the spell had failed, most likely you would have bounced back to your original spot, no worse off than you were to start with. And now I’ve spared you a dunk in the Great Canal.
“It all sounds awfully complicated.” Kalen said crossly. “But I owe you my thanks. From what they say, a swim in the canals can make you sick, or worse.” Once again he found himself intimidated by the Viscount.
“You’re quite welcome, my friend. But it’s not so mysterious or complex once you get into it.” Lukas shrugged. “A lot of studying and practicing, just like anything else. Ah, here we are at the Barge Inn. Stop here, boater.”
Kalen said his thanks and good-night to Lukas at the dock. He assured the Viscount that he could make it to his room safely on his own -- despite Lukas’ teasing him about how he limped along with only one clog. In the end, Kalen took off the other one so at least he wasn’t hobbling. He passed through the raucous, smoky and uncomfortably warm great-room unnoticed and made his way up the massive wooden staircase. When he reached his quarters and opened the door, Kalen found Jad there already, dressed only in his nightshirt and pacing the length of the antechamber. Kalen’s first thought was relief to see him here and unscathed. Jad looked up and gasped as the door opened, then rushed up and hugged his cousin fiercely before he could even get in the door. “Kalen, you’re all right!”
An embrace from his best friend was the most consoling thing Kalen could imagine on this troubling night. Kalen returned his hug, slowly relaxing in his cousin’s arms. He could not help but notice the strong muscles of Jad’s back and shoulders through the thin cotton of his shirt, and his cousin’s warm breath on his neck. I’m still a little drunk, he realized.
“So what happened!?” Jad pulled him to arm’s length and looked him up and down. “You were falling over the side, then right before you hit the water there was this flash of light and you vanished! Then I saw another flash above Ridgeston on the deck. It looked like you were transported -- like the Navigators do.”
“It was Lukas actually; he said he used a Leaving spell, but he wasn’t good enough at it to send me over to your barge.”
“Lukas! I’ll bet he ‘wasn’t good enough.’” Jad snorted and released his cousin.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Kalen demanded, a little annoyed.
“Nothing! Nothing! I’m sorry.” Jad pulled Kalen to him again and held him close.
“It’s all right, don’t worry about it.” Kalen wrapped his arms around Jad. The Squire rested his head on Kalen’s shoulder; it was than that the Marquess realized that his cousin was trembling. “Jad, are you cold? You’re shivering.”
Jad remained silent for a long time, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse, and he took on a strangely formal tone. “I am so sorry my Lord, I should have been at your side. I failed you! I swear I will never fail you again. I will never leave you.”
Jad would never leave him... Kalen felt warm… and dizzy. Definitely still a little drunk, he thought. But he gently, reluctantly, pulled Jad away to look him in the face. Then he realized the reason for his trembling: Jad was crying: eyes welled up and tears streaming down his face. His mouth worked as he fought to control himself. Kalen struggled for the right words. “You haven’t failed me; you could never fail me, my friend.”
“But —”
“We’re both safe, and that’s all that matters. Please don’t torture yourself over this.” Kalen insisted, and he saw some relief on Jad’s face. “Now, let’s go to bed.”
Without another word on the subject, Jad helped Kalen undress and change into his nightshirt -- which he had already laid out on the bed. Both of them were comforted by this familiar ritual.
Jad made sure the door was securely locked and all the shutters bolted while Kalen stoked up the fire a bit, and they climbed into the large bed. Kalen took the Phoenix Pendant from around his neck, and held it by its gleaming chain for a moment. The bird, trapped within the crystal orb, glittered as it slowly turned in the firelight. He placed it on the nightstand and slipped under the covers as Jad snuggled in on the other side.
They had slept in the same bed together for years — sometimes huddling together to keep warm — yet Kalen felt that there was something different tonight. Jad moved close behind him and put his arm around him, something he hadn’t done in quite awhile. Kalen felt comforted by that, but something else too, that made his heart beat a little faster. Despite that, the fatigue and wine conspired to overwhelm him, and he slipped into sleep almost immediately.
When the search aboard the Tharal Barge failed to turn up anyone else of interest to Koren Maas, he made a cursory apology to the nearest family member, explaining that there had been reports of a planned assassination attempt. By the time he had disembarked aboard the boat that had so quickly brought his Security Ministry investigators, he overheard whispers that Maas had thwarted a plot against the Prince. He smiled to himself, his full lips pulled into a tight line. Within minutes the rumors would be flying across the canals… literally.
He considered tracking down the Marquess from Rhakhaan using his Mind Typing, but decided that it could wait until the city had quieted down. Kalen Avanir wasn’t going anywhere for at least a few more days. As his boat moved away, he sent a Mind Tongue to Seylars: Meet me at the Flying Fish at the Midday bell tomorrow; wear nondescript clothes. I will appear as Tenar Kelath. He would have the Red Dragons do his dirty work and keep his own hands clean. He’d already made enough of a scene tonight. Of course, if the Dragons hadn’t bungled their ‘robbery’ the other night, he wouldn’t have to be going to all this trouble in the first place.
Maas pondered his encounter with the Marquess from Rhakhaan. He had sensed a powerful artifact on the boy’s person, but unfortunately most of his analysis spells required that he actually touch the item in question. There was no way to verify Iaen Shiin’s suspicion that this was one of the ancient artifacts of the Six Realms. Acquisition of such an item -- especially one of the pendants -- might prove useful to increase their influence in Jaiman. The powers of these items from the Second Era were legendary. Like most other such powerful items, it probably had to be attuned to its owner before its full potential could be tapped. It was Maas’ suspicion that the youth had not yet attuned himself to the pendant, and if so, it was vitally important that he acquire it before Kalen did. It might have shielding powers that would make it and its attuned owner much more difficult to locate.
Not satisfied with meeting Seylars tomorrow, the Itanian Warlock sent out a thought to one of his lieutenants in the Unseen Eyes. They would help keep track of Kalen Avanir.
Agonar materialized in his study, bathed momentarily in a soft golden aura. This chamber was located deep within his private chambers in the Tharal House, one of his safe Returning points scattered across Kulthea. The crowds on the barge had made him uncomfortable from the start, but fortunately since few people recognized him, he had been left pretty much left alone to observe the other guests. The fracas with Maas had been interesting but unsettling. Even Agonar had been surprised by the Security Minister’s aggressive actions towards the Jaiman youth. What could he want? How does this relate to the Loremaster’s interest? It seemed highly unlikely that a half-elven boy from little Jaiman could be important to defeating Ondoval and the Shadowstone, but then stranger things had happened on Kulthea.
Agonar poured himself a drink. Whether he liked it or not, he was now involved in this mess.
Kalen opened his eyes. The room was dark. What time was it? With the shutters all closed it was impossible to tell. He could hear Jad’s even breathing, felt his cousin’s back pressed lightly against his own. He thought of trying to go back to sleep, but knew it was probably futile: he had the unfortunate tendency to wake up early even if he didn’t get to bed until late; and once awake, there was no returning to the world of dreams. He sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb his cousin, and slipped out of the bed. Immediately he felt the chill of the room through his cotton nightshirt, though at least there were carpets on the floor to protect his bare feet. The fire was now just a few embers; at least it was not completely dead. He slipped the Phoenix Pendant over his head, pulled on his long flannel robe and crept to the fireplace. It took a few minutes of fiddling with tinder and blowing on the dying coals, but he soon had a small fire going again. He could have rung for one of the inn servants to deal with the fire, but took some satisfaction in doing it himself. It had been some time since he and Jad were out in the wilds, tending to their own campfire. He stood and looked back to the bed. In the growing firelight he could see that his cousin had rolled onto his on his back and pushed the covers partway down. Kalen could see Jad’s chest slowly rise and fall through his open nightshirt, his half-elven features angelic in sleep.
The young Marquess padded silently to the window, swung open the sash and gingerly unlocked the shutters. A pale gray light -- and a bitter cold wind -- came through the opening. It was just after dawn from what he could tell, though the sky was a low ceiling of heavy clouds. And it smelled of rain, or even snow. Kalen looked out across the city. He had to admit that their room on the top floor of the Barge Inn had a marvelous view: overlooking the Canal of the Waiting Waters (already busy with delivery traffic), this window faced south toward the Library Quarter. He could see the domes of the University of Kalingen and the Sel-kai Library over the clustered rooftops and gables. Beyond, there were the trees rising from the Prince’s Park. Past that, the city was lost in a haze of chimney smoke and mist rising from the canals.
He left the shutter open a crack, but closed and latched the window.
On the hammered tin roof just above the window that Kalen had just closed, a young man sprawled across the metal, peeking down over the eve. The noise of the opening shutter had attracted Cricket’s attention, and he held his breath as Kalen looked out across the city. When he heard the window close he exhaled and shimmied carefully back up, happy to not be hanging five stories above the icy Canal of the Waiting Waters. He ran his fingers through his short, thick black hair, then pulled his hooded cloak about himself again, watching as the fabric’s color shifted to match the pale gray of the tin roof. The cloak was his proudest possession -- after his Boots of Leaping of course.
This kind of watching and waiting stint wasn’t his favorite chore by a long bowshot, but their client this time was a regular one that kept the Nightwings in warm clothes and decent food. It lacked the excitement of a burglary, but the danger as well. And Cricket was always eager to take on any assignment if it meant gaining favor with Bat.
Cricket pulled a handful of brown beans out of a pouch and, one by one, popped them in his mouth. Roasted coffee beans covered in sweet chocolate, his worst (and most expensive) vice, and it helped keep him awake until his relief came. He ground the beans between his teeth with quiet relish, but paused between beans to listen. Even though the night was over, he knew he couldn’t let down his guard. The guests in the suite below -- two nobles from Jaiman, Bat told him -- were very important and had to be kept safe. The Nightwings were to watch them and be sure no one else got close to their rooms. One of Cricket’s fellows worked as a scullery boy in the Inn’s kitchen, and another -- Wren -- was the night porter, so he could keep an eye on the door.
The Library clock tower sounded the morning quintar. Cricket stifled a yawn and a shiver. What a way to spend New Year’s Day. One more hour till Robin his relief man came.
Deep in the Canal Maze district, well off the Market Circle, Seylars lounged at a back booth of the Flying Fish tavern. Instead of his black silk Red Dragon attire, or the finery he had worn the night before, he had chosen to wear heavy blue cotton breeches and a gray woolen sweater. The clothes were plain but well made; more expensive than any of the other patrons of the Fish. He also wore a black wool cap that partially covered his ears, though an observant person would still realize he was an Elf just by his elegant features. A mug of ale sat in front of him untouched. Seylars wasn’t an ale fancier, but they didn’t serve decent butak in this dive, and he had to drink something. The middle aged woman who took his order looked surprised, then suspicious when she realized she had an Iylar customer. He in return looked her up and down appraisingly. Her hair was going gray, her figure a little too full, and she was getting a bit old to be showing as much cleavage as she was. He smirked condescendingly and she looked away, blushing.
When she returned with his stoneware flagon she was overly formal and would not meet his gaze. “Would you care for something to eat, m’sur? We got some decent cod in, and the greens are fresh.”
“No thank you, just the ale for now.” He leered.
“Very good, m’sur.” She hurried away.
Apparently the cod was popular, and the smell of fried fish began to permeate the place, making the Elf feel somewhat nauseous. Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long before a tall, pale bald man entered the tavern and hurried to Seylars’ booth with quick, mincing steps. “May I join you?” he asked the Elf in a nasal voice.
“Of course.” The Red Dragon gestured to the opposite side of the booth. “A pleasure, as always, Minister Maas.”
Koren Maas, who was employing a Facades spell to alter his appearance, grimaced at the Elf. “I would appreciate it if you referred to me as Tenar Kelath when I am wearing this guise in public.” He whispered.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Tenar.” Seylars’ voice oozed sarcasm.
The Security Minister seemed to ignore this insult. “The Jaimani youths are staying at the Barge Inn. You need to move on them in the next day or so; we can’t afford to wait any longer or they may flee the city. You know what I want: the pendant that the dark-haired one carries. And don’t bungle it again or you’ll be sorry.”
Seylars glared back at the sallow-faced man. “What about our fee?”
“You’ll get it when you bring me the item. Here, in two days, at the same time.”
“Are we still not allowed to harm them?” The Elf toyed with a butter knife.
“I no longer care what you do. Just get the item.”
Seylars grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. “That makes it easier.”
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