Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (39 page)

“Quit,” Dancer said in his best imitation of Trayvin’s voice, which was actually pretty good, “or die.” The little man always did have a way of cutting to the point which I admired.

Trayvin, who raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender, nodded rapidly. “I surrender,” he yelped before regaining his composure and repeating, “I surrender.”

Dancer nodded and stepped back, looking appraisingly at the dozen or so wounds scattered across his body.

Trayvin, meanwhile, had still not moved his legs, and to his credit he didn’t whimper or break down into tears. Instead, he tried to prop himself up against the edge of the cage, which he managed to do after a few tries.

“The challenge is hereby concluded,” boomed the voice of Magister Carlovi Beturin. “Dancer, Champion of Jezran Wiegraf has achieved victory as specified by Apprentice Kaven Urkalia. By mutual agreement, the services of the warrior Trayvin, formerly assigned to the escort staff of House Urkalia, are hereby granted to House Wiegraf to do with as that house sees fit.”

The Magister turned to me pointedly. “Do you, Journeyman Jezran Wiegraf, dispute the ruling of this court?”

When I shook my head, the Magister turned to my opponent. “Do you, Apprentice Kaven Urkalia, dispute the ruling of this court?”

Kaven still hadn’t regained his composure, and his face was white as a sheet, but he shook his head absently before turning and stomping out of the chamber.

Magister Beturin nodded and made a mark on what looked to be the public record of the duel before unlocking the cage door. “The well-being of the latest addition to House Wiegraf’s official roster is entirely your purview,” he explained officially, “but in any case, he must be transferred out of this facility immediately.”

“Thank you, Magister,” I acknowledged before striding into the cage and went to assess Dancer’s wounds.

The little man shrugged me off. “Not bad,” he said nonchalantly as he pointed to Trayvin, “but he not walk.” Despite his assurances, I used my powers to close the worst of his wounds, at least to keep them from bleeding too badly until he could get proper attention. After casting the spell, I was satisfied that the majority of my Champion’s wounds would hold together until we returned to Wiegraf Estate later that evening.

“I thought I told you not to use any new steps,” I muttered under my breath after the healing spell was complete.

Dancer nodded confidently. “Yes; no new steps,” he confirmed.

“Then what was that whole thing with the spear?” I asked, a mixture of confusion and anger in my voice.

Dancer shrugged. “Not new step. First step Sky Splitter taught Dancer.”

I really needed to examine that spear more thoroughly, but I doubted I had the time to do so before leaving Veldyrian. I turned from Dancer and focused on his fallen foe, but I didn’t even need to look at him to know that Dancer was right about his condition; my limited healing ability would be almost completely useless in dealing with his wounds.

“Pi’Vari,” I barked, and when I knew I had his attention I continued, “send a runner to Chester. Tell him he needs to arrange transport for Trayvin back to Wiegraf Estate. Also inform him that he’ll be requiring significant healing, so have him arrange something while we’re away at the banquet.”

Pi’Vari left the room with his instructions and I turned back to Trayvin, who asked through clenched teeth, “What will you do with me?”

I stopped and considered his query. “I really have no idea,” I replied honestly, “except to see to your wounds and get you back on your feet as quickly as possible.” I decided it was best to go ahead and close up the wound, since there was significant amount of bleeding. I closed my eyes and summoned the symbols into my mind which would allow me to enact my own version of first aid. I had really never checked how many of these spells I could cast before exhausting my energy reserves, but I suspected it was somewhere between two and three dozen.

The swashbuckler shook his head after the spell had taken effect. “My wound is incurable,” he said flatly. “I have seen men sustain such wounds and they have never walked again.”

“It might be,” I admitted with a nod, “but it also might not be. We’ll see later tonight.”

A few minutes later, Pi’Vari returned down the stairs to the cavernous chamber, followed by a pair of servants from Wiegraf Estate. Their prompt reply was impressive, and after they had secured Trayvin to their stretcher-like sling they returned to the Estate, leaving us to continue on to the banquet.

Chapter XXVI: Queen’s Gambit Accepted

As we approached Listoh Estate, Pi’Vari broke the silence.

“What is your plan for him?” he asked abruptly.

“For who, Trayvin?” I asked feeling a bit blindsided.

My herald nodded in exaggerated agreement. “You cannot believe he is trustworthy,” he said matter-of-factly.

I suppressed a snicker at the idea of Pi’Vari questioning someone’s trustworthiness. “Well,” I replied thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure about that. But in any case, it’s an issue for tomorrow,” I said as we finally approached the gates of Listoh Estate. They were manned by a pair of soldiers wearing absolutely incredible golden armor, stylized in a fashion similar to the old Roman Legion.

The guards nodded silently as we passed through the gate, which was already open. Apparently the guards were there for mostly ornamental value, but I wasn’t complaining. For all I knew the banquet was a more-or-less open occasion for High Wizards of Veldyrian, and it was pretty clear that I was one of those.

The grounds of Listoh Estate were far more impressive than those of House Wiegraf, as befitted the second-most (or some would say most) powerful of Veldyrian’s Great Houses. Lining the pathway to leading from the gate to the main house were exquisite statues made of every imaginable material.

There was the curvaceous image of a life-size woman, wearing no clothing whatsoever but whose hair was so incredibly long and full that it covered everything a bathing suit would normally cover. The detail was amazing, but the most impressive part was that it was made of ice! I had seen this particular statue before, and it had not changed one bit since my last visit, suggesting it was magically maintained.

A few rows down was some sort of grey, stone, vicious-looking elephant reared up on its hind legs. It had two rows of tusks, one set positioned where I would expect, with the other pair splaying outward about fifteen degrees from the more naturally positioned ones. But none of the tusks were rounded ivory; instead, they looked like serrated blades with downward-pointing, hooked tips.

Across from that one was a creature that elicited a visceral reaction of terror, at least from me. It was fully eight feet tall and at least half as wide at the shoulders. It was roughly humanoid—save for its four arms instead of two—which were folded across its chest and the six foot long, curved horns protruding from the sides of its head. Those horns which swept back and down behind its body before bifurcating into a pair of wicked-looking points which rested beside and just in front of its thighs. The statue’s thighs were as thick as tree trunks, and ended it bovine, cloven hooves. This particular statue literally glowed with heat, which looked to be radiating from somewhere inside its overly muscular torso.

There were at least fifty such edifices lining the walkway, and we passed them as we made our way quickly into the house just as the last rays of the setting sun disappeared into the enveloping darkness. An instant after the last sliver of the sun had vanished, hundreds of small, glowing orbs appeared, connected to the buildings scattered throughout the Estate, illuminating the place just like a well-lit city street at night.

The doorway leading into the Main House was open with yet another pair of armored guards standing silent watch. I heard the gate behind us close, as apparently the invitation I received had been serious insisting that we arrive before sundown.

Just past the guards was the entryway, which was as one might expect from one of the most powerful organizations in the known world. Gold, silver, and gemstones adorned nearly every piece of furniture and works of art decorated every possible surface without creating a visual overload.

There was a well-dressed man wearing long white gloves and a black double-breasted coat waiting there, and as soon as we entered the foyer, he approached stoically.

“You are just in time,” he said coolly in the same tone Chester used, “might I have your name for the register?”

Pi’Vari stepped forward without being bidden. This was the part he loved, so there was little point in trying to manipulate him in any way.

“You have the honor of receiving my Lord and Master, Journeyman Jezran ‘Cobalt’ Wiegraf,” he replied haughtily, clearly trying to upstage the man, “scion of House Wiegraf, honorable recipient of First Selection in the three hundred and twenty fifth annual Wizard’s College Draft, and co-founder of the recently recognized school of Somnomancy.”

‘Co-founder’ was definitely stretching it a bit, but who was here to argue? Not that I cared; I just wanted to get in the place and put my proposal in front of someone with the authority to decide how much assistance to offer us.

“House Listoh has been expecting my Lord,” Pi’Vari continued without pause, “who would have been here sooner were his attention not required to settle a libelous dispute not one hour ago in the cage under the ever-watchful eye of the Magisterial Office, to whose learned justice and temperance we graciously submit ourselves as dutiful citizens of this glorious Empire, long may it endure,” he finished with a deliberate pause before straightening himself into a similarly rigid pose as the one the butler had adopted.

The butler looked down his nose at my herald for a moment before replying, “We are most honored to receive your Lord into our
humble
,” he hung on the last word just enough to dig it in, “estate, and hope he finds the occasion to be up to his clearly…exacting standards.”

Pi’Vari nodded agreeably. “As do I, my friend,” he replied smoothly, “for my Lord has a well-known temper.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Dancer before leaning in close and speaking conspiratorially, “Just two weeks ago he was as large as both of us put together, but he fumbled his weapon during a practice session and now he must spend the next year looking like that.” My herald shivered visibly before finishing, “And I shudder at the thought of what fate befell the kitchen staff last month…words cannot express the horror of that scene, and I will forever pity the groundskeepers who had to clean up afterward.”

The butler was clearly unimpressed, but he marked our names down in the ledger before continuing with his well-rehearsed greeting. “Your Lord will have no further need of either his herald, or his…Champion,” he said with a long, disgusted look at Dancer. “House Listoh guarantees his safety whilst on her grounds.”

Pi’Vari nodded and clapped the butler a little harder than he should have on the shoulder. “Good! Where might we find some food, then?”1

The butler gave him a look of disdain as he gestured through a set of doors adjoining the entryway. “The servants are gathered at the end of that corridor,” he said before returning to his ledger and pretending to ignore us.

I leaned close to Pi’Vari. “What was the point of that, exactly?” I whispered. “All you’re doing is antagonizing him.”

My herald grinned mischievously as he replied, “They already believe us to be a mere annoyance, a low House with no standing or relevance. Nothing we say or do to this man will change that, so much like Dancer’s feint within the cage we must play the part well enough to lure them into a false sense of confidence—which might be later used against them.”

It made a kind of sense, I have to admit, but I wasn’t convinced it was necessary. “Just don’t start any brawls in the back room,” I insisted, “I really don’t need any more drama right now.”

The impish expression never left his face as he bowed gracefully. “Of course, my Lord,” he replied in his most formal tone before turning toward the corridor and walking to where the butler had indicated.

Dancer didn’t immediately follow, and I wouldn’t have even allowed him to come if not for having so little remaining time. His wounds were still weeping blood, but it wouldn’t be a problem unless he actually got into another fight. “No more fighting tonight,” I ordered and he shrugged indifferently. “I mean it,” I insisted, “we need you at full strength two days from now, and anything worse than this will take longer than that to heal, even with the proper magics.”

The little man looked like he wanted to rebel somehow, but eventually he relented. “No start fight,” he agreed.

Knowing that was probably as much as I would get out of him, I indicated for him to follow Pi’Vari, which he did after bowing with his fist over his heart. The amount of faith he put in me was humbling, and I knew that before the night was over we would find out if that faith was well-placed…or not.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before marching intently through the foyer and into the Main Hall of Listoh Estate.

The Main Hall was decorated with all manner of banners and tapestries, probably designed and crafted specifically for the occasion, after which they would likely be repurposed into clothing or some other, more useful form of textile.

The Empire was nothing if not efficient, much as it pains me to admit. It would be easier to hate the entire institution if they were as wasteful as the people I had grown up around, but the truth was that whenever possible no effort went completely wasted. Leftover foodstuffs were always processed on-site by pigs or some other form of livestock, rather than being shipped off to a landfill like in my world, and waste was harshly punished whenever it was observed.

Even the vast majority of art objects collected within the halls of the Great Houses were actually remnants of older civilizations which had been assimilated into the Empire sometime in the last four hundred years. Imperial era art was almost outlawed, as its production had to be justified by some sort of real-world purpose. The requirements such creations needed to satisfy quite clearly stated they must have some true function, rather than merely as thought-provoking objects or representations. The Imperial Doctrine of ‘Guidance by Enlightenment’ had supposedly been a core tenet for the entire six thousand year history of the Empire, and it was quite clear in its categorical condemnation of artistic expression for the sake of artistic expression.