Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (21 page)

“Truly fascinating work,” he said in what I would have taken to be genuine wonderment from anyone else. “If you will humor an old man,” he prompted politely as his eyes met mine, and I quickly nodded my assent. He thumbed through the pages until coming to a passage he appeared to have marked, and quoted, “The field of Somnomancy has until now been greatly understudied, having been defined as a field whose only practical application would be for the gathering of sensitive information directly from a target’s mind. We have discovered a plethora of other, more far-reaching, applications including: locating individuals at great distances; translocating to that individual’s location using a quantum-level conduit created during the union of minds; the interruption of such individual’s ability to perform complex functions by depriving them of the relaxation needed for meditation; or even the disruption of a target’s most basic and vital physical functions.”

I had to hold a smirk back as he read my own words. I had used the term ‘quantum conduit’ when compiling Antolin’s notes because I thought it sounded good, and because I knew that the more arcane you made something sound, the more credibility you got from your peers—especially if they couldn’t
actually
understand what you were saying but they
thought
they knew what you meant. The rest of it was just my own wording of Antolin’s research notes, since he had tasked me with the mundane assignment of penning the entire twenty nine page document.

“This is incredible work,” Arch Magos Rekir said with what I almost believed was genuine appreciation. “How much of this is yours?”

I shook my head graciously. “I’m afraid I was just the penman for that document. Some of the verbiage is mine,” I admitted, “but the vast majority of the findings and records presented are Magos Antolin’s works, to which I provided little assistance or input. Somnomancy is
his
dream, if you’ll forgive the pun,” I quirked a grin.

The Arch Magos’ smile returned, broader than ever. “Humility is used by the young who are looking to impress their elders, or by the old when they wish to hide their true strength,” he said knowingly as he sat back in his chair, returning the paper to the pile of similar documents on the table. “You will find that I appreciate, and even encourage, a more direct approach,” he said with a twinkle in his eye that put me on guard. “Too much time is wasted on games, in my opinion, so I will not waste any more of either of our lives by dancing around my purpose for inviting you here.” He reached to another pile of papers and withdrew a single scroll. “I have a proposition for you,” the Arch Magos said, leaning forward to hand me the paper.

I was caught off guard. The Arch Magos knew that I was unable to initiate, accept, or even acknowledge negotiations on behalf of my house due to my low rank as an Apprentice. “Well,” I replied, deciding to go for the direct approach, “I’m confused.” I reached out and accepted the paper, rotating it so I could read it properly.

The Master of House Tyrdren laughed, and it was the kind of laugh you would expect from a pleasantly surprised uncle or grandfather. “In short,” he began as he snapped his fingers, prompting the door to his private study to open from the outside, after which a servant entered the room bearing a pitcher of wine, “you have something which I would like, and I believe I can offer you more than fair compensation in exchange.”

I had only read the first few lines of the document, which were the standard legalese nonsense with which all such documents began. I looked up at him in confusion, and decided to go ahead and ask the obvious. “But I don’t have the authority to negotiate on behalf of House Wiegraf,” I said levelly, “since I’m only an Apprentice, and not eligible for advancement to Journeyman for at least another two years.”

The Arch Magos nodded as he took his first sip of wine, reaching hastily into his pocket as though he had forgotten something, but I was sure it was all an act. “That reminds me,” he said sheepishly, “I have something else I thought I should deliver to you in person.” He withdrew a small, folded piece of paper from an inner pocket and handed it to the servant, who carried to me.

My confusion mounting, I accepted the triangular, folded paper and carefully opened it. My eyebrows went up a little before I controlled them as I read the opening lines, the operative parts of which read:

It is consistent with the wisdom and judgment of the Inner Circle of Veldyrian that Jezran “Cobalt” Wiegraf has proven his loyalty, and provided service to the city of Veldyrian far in excess of that which is required of an individual of his station.

In recognition for his outstanding service, which should serve as an example to all members of our appointed ranks, we hereby waive the remaining period of requisite time before he is allowed to apply for Journeyman status and elevate him to said status effective immediately. In addition, his previous service shall serve in place of the standard trials and rites accompanying such a promotion.

It is the unanimous wish of the Inner Circle that he maintain his steadfast dedication to the Empire for the rest of his days, and that he continue to set such a fine example for all citizens of our glorious nation.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said after finishing the document, quite certain that a metaphorical hook had just lodged itself firmly in my cheek. “Obviously, I appreciate whatever hand you may have had in this,” I said as graciously as I could manage.

Rekir waved his hand dismissively, and only then did I notice that the servant was standing next to me holding a glass of wine. I took it and placed it on the table next to my arm as I continued reading the letter of promotion.

“You have earned it, Journeyman,” the Arch Magos replied seriously, “I have never seen talent like yours in all my life.”

A smirk tugged at my lips, which I decided to let play out on my face. “Your son is no slouch when it comes to spellcasting,” I said indifferently. I truly hated his son, Pryzius Tyrdren, who seemed to have made it his life’s goal to make my own miserable.

“He has his talents,” Rekir agreed, “but I know greatness when I see it. He will be a fine Magos, and one day I have little doubt that he will become Arch Magos in my stead…but that will have less to do with
his
accomplishments and abilities than
mine
,” he said pointedly.

That was a surprising. “An odd thing to hear a father say,” I admitted after a short pause.

The Arch Magos shrugged. “My grandfather was one of the original seven founders of Veldyrian four hundred years ago,” he explained, “but both his, and my father’s, legacies are marred with at least as many blunders as successes. House Tyrdren is what it is today because of what happened after their deaths, some of which is owed to careful planning, some of which is owed to ability,” his grin widened and the twinkle in his eye flashed briefly, “and the rest is just plain luck.”

I sipped the wine, and it had an incredible bite to it that I hadn’t expected. I took another sip and felt my entire chest seem to warm in response. I doubted I could afford a bottle of the stuff if I saved all of my own earnings for a month, and I was keenly aware of the message he was sending me by letting me sample it.

“But Pryzius does not have the same vision that I do,” the Arch Magos continued with another smile after pausing to observe my reaction to the wine. “In fact, in two hundred years I have yet to meet someone with whom I could converse in a common language. That is, until I read your work,” he corrected himself, placing a finger on the Somnomancy paper he had quoted earlier.

I shook my head. “It’s not modesty,” I said seriously, “all of the findings in those papers were Magos Antolin’s work. I just compiled the thing and filled in the blanks.”

The Arch Magos’ eyes seemed to take on a life of their own as they burned with an unexpected intensity. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Exactly!” he exclaimed, as though I had just proposed a functional cure for cancer. “The work itself is just drudgery; it needs to be done—and done by someone with the skill to do so correctly—but when I look at the listed experiments conducted and their attached observations, I sometimes wonder if there was any vision whatsoever propelling the project forward. Then I get to the ‘blanks,’ as you call them, and that is where I find brilliance like I have never seen!”

He was really bowling me over, and it was sort of working. Appealing to my vanity had never been much of a tactic back home, but here, after a year of doing Antolin’s dirty work and getting almost nothing in return, I found that a little appreciation was going straight to my head.

Arch Magos Rekir continued without pause. “It is precisely because of this brilliance that the Inner Circle authorized your immediate promotion—which places you a full year ahead of my own son, even though you graduated in the same class. That is how highly I think of you, young Jezran,” he finished energetically, sitting back in his seat to take another sip of wine.

I placed the promotion letter inside my shirt pocket. “I really don’t know what to say,” I said truthfully.

The Arch Magos shrugged. “I have not always been the polished politician,” he said warmly. “It is acceptable to be speechless every now and then, but I do hope you will give serious consideration to my proposal,” he prompted, gesturing to the paper in my lap.

I turned my attention back to it and silently read it twice before taking its full meaning. “You want my Champion, Gaeld,” I said, breaking the minute or two of silence, “and you’re offering me a package beginning with a handful of durable spell licenses, including a healing spell and a variation of the Third Eye spell; you also offer quite a few copies of your own early research notes with which to begin my own private library. In addition,” I ran my finger down to another listed item, “you offer some sort of magical token which ‘enhances the user’s ability to defend himself,’ the first pick at the upcoming Gladiatorial Draft, and a complete repayment of all public debts incurred by House Wiegraf.”

Rekir nodded. “I apologize for the nebulous wording regarding the token, but I assure you that it has served me well for many, many years,” he said, reaching into a pocket at his waist, pulling out a small metal disc with a series of leather straps attached to it. He flipped it through the air, and I managed to trap it in my lap. “I acquired it a long time ago, and I believe the time has come for it to stop collecting lint in my pocket,” he said with a wide grin.

I looked at the device and saw that it was composed of a pair of circular discs, one set within the other.

“The first spell,” the Arch Magos began, “is a fairly standard type of offensive effect. The second, more powerful spell contained within that device, is capable of bringing down a full-grown dragon,” he said seriously, “and you should be careful when you choose to use that one. Successfully deploying it has always been tricky, even for me, but the first spell is fairly simple to use once you have practiced with it a bit.” His winning smile returned and he added, “I am certain someone of your talents will not find it as difficult to master as I did.”

This guy knew how to stick it in and twist it, that much was for sure. I tried to ignore the barbs as I flipped the disc over in my hands. I tried to remember if I had seen the runes carved into its surface before, but I couldn’t remember seeing anything like them. “Does it provide its own energy?” I asked, curious about the first enchanted item I had ever held outside of Antolin’s laboratory.

The Arch Magos shook his head sadly. “I am afraid not,” he explained, “you must supply the power yourself, and that is the trickiest part. I am confident you will learn it no time,” he assured me.

I felt anything but assured; however, I didn’t really have much of a choice. Gaeld was an amazing warrior, but he was just one member of my entourage and what Rekir was offering was most definitely a deal with the devil. I might have to sacrifice something of long-term value to plug some short-term holes, but the temptation would have been too much for me to pass up in any event. Besides, if I understood correctly, Antolin’s acquisition of Gaeld had only cost him around fifty thousand gold pieces, and what Rekir was offering easily weighed in at ten times that value—such were the stakes which even the lowliest of Veldyrian’s Great Houses played with.

“And this first pick in the Gladiatorial Draft,” I prompted, “I understand that the games rarely produce a consistent crop of talent.”

Rekir nodded. “True enough,” he admitted smoothly, taking another sip of his wine, “but the first pick rarely proves to be less useful than the tenth pick of the yearly open tournament. The drop in talent from the first to the second selection is quite severe, which is why I am offering the first pick when I hold both the first
and
second,” he grinned, flashing perfectly straight teeth the color of virgin snow. “I would be happy to share my own House’s reports on this year’s entrants, if you like?”

We both knew he had me, so I decided to address the elephant in the room. “I would accept if it was up to me, but even as a newly elevated Journeyman,” I said with a gracious nod to the Arch Magos, “accepting spell licenses in the name of my house is an authority which rests solely with the House’s master.”

Rekir chuckled. “You are well-versed in Imperial law,” he said appreciatively. “But this is not an agreement between House Tyrdren and House Wiegraf,” he said pointedly, “this is an agreement between Arch Magos Rekir “Crimson” Tyrdren and Journeyman Jezran “Cobalt” Wiegraf—of which I would prefer Magos Antolin Wiegraf did not become immediately aware. You can claim that I offered to erase all debts incurred by your house and even bestowed a few durable spell licenses upon you, and you jumped at the opportunity to help your beleaguered house,” he said with barely disguised amusement. “But the Spell Key should remain a secret between you and me, along with my old notes,” he said with a wink.

I got the feeling I was being played like a pawn, but I didn’t have a choice. Either I moved where Rekir wanted me to move, or I would probably find that his beneficence would be replaced by something a lot less palatable – or more importantly, a lot less survivable. I really hated all the politics of Veldyrian, and wanted nothing more than to get out—which was oddly easier to accomplish if I agreed to this proposed deal, since House Wiegraf had precious few useful spell licenses and almost none of them would help me get where I wanted to go.