Sourcethief (Book 3) (12 page)

"Davin can give you the directions to his
country home," King Gorden said.

"If you do not mind my asking, Your Majesty, is
your palace always so deserted? Since you sent your cook home for the evening,
there has been no sound."

"Seems unsafe, does it?" King Gorden
asked. "Well I have guards about most nights, but they were given leave.
Lord Harwick told me enough of you that I knew I could not have stopped your
lady-friend from slaughtering all my guards had you come with ill intent.
Tezuan trained and a sorceress atop that? I took Lord Harwick's testimonial on
your character as sufficient to guard my own life, but I was not prepared to
waste others' lives on my folly should either of us have been mistaken."

"I think that is what the people mean by
wisdom, Your Majesty," Brannis said. It seemed a strange opinion for a
monarch to hold.

"Sir Brannis, a year from now, or five, or ten,
depending on how well this life-extension business works, I will see Acardia
truly pass into the safe keeping of her people. They are Acardia's future, not
I."

* * * * * * *
*

"So, are you going to tell me what you and King
Gorden talked about?" Soria asked. They were back in their carriage,
headed toward The Golden Elk.

"Maybe after you tell me about your adventures
with Expert Davin. I suspect the other subject will consume the evening,"
Brannis replied.

"He's a sweet old man, Brannis. He's everything
I would have expected from what you told me of him. He showed me about, but he
spent more of the time slyly asking about you. He really has been
worried."

"Well, that was the main reason for coming,
after all," Brannis said. "By the by, did you notice anything unusual
in the palace? Did you look about for magic, by any chance?"

"A bit, but mostly I was finding out all about
Kyrus from when he was younger," Soria said, grinning and throwing herself
into Brannis's lap. "You were quite the little bookweevil."

"I was a scribe, it sort of comes bundled in
with the job. I shudder to think all the things he told you about ... me,"
Brannis said. He shook his head to clear it. "I mean about Kyrus. I never
did any of the things he told you. I never met the man before tonight, mind
you."

Soria laughed and shook her head. "You were
happy to see him. You hugged him like family. You knew him all right, and you
met him—as Kyrus. Now, enough about my night, tell me about yours. What did the
king want with you?"

"He knows."

"Knows what?"

"Everything, I think. He is not twinborn, but
Caladris shared everything with him. He spoke Kadrin. He said that Oriedel
Conniton, his former scribe, had wanted me for his successor, but he needed me
to become an Expert first, so they took Davin to free me of my apprenticeship.
Expert Oriedel even left word that he wanted to see me."

"Well, I guess that beats my night of old
stories and architecture. So is that where we're off to next, to see this old
scribe?"

"I suppose we ought to," Brannis replied,
rubbing his chin. "I had other plans though. I was going to scout an area
upriver, to the spot where the capitol of Azzat would lie if this were
Veydrus."

"That's a bit random," Soria said. She
slid off his lap to sit next to him, her frivolity momentarily checked.
"You have some new scheme you didn't tell me of?"

"Just yesterday, well, last night ... whatever
time it is in Kadris from here, I got word of a demon in Azzat who might be
willing to help me with Rashan."

"Oh, that sounds like a wonderful plan. How
about you pack that one back up wherever you pulled it from, and we go see the
nice old scribe?"

"Rashan is getting worse. He was back for
Founding Day and threw a blast of lightning at one of the pageant illusions. He
kills, he said, because it keeps him alive. What sort of delusion is that? A
dangerous one, I say. One day I will be the one he takes issue with, I know it.
Dolvaen was right in that much—we will not live out our days in peace
together."

"And you think that some demon in Azzat will
give you the answers you need?" Soria asked.

"I need to find some weakness of his. There is
little to be found in Veydrus among the histories. I have some inkling that
Rashan was twinborn and once had a living twin in Tellurak, but there is no one
as old as Rashan in this world. Few enough folk remember him alive in our—my
world. I want to speak to one of the few who knew him personally."

"Well, I don't like you going off to meet some
demon. It seems dangerous."

"No more dangerous than the demon I already
have."

"We'll go see the scribe first and maybe
something will come up to make you forget about visiting demons."

"Fine. We will go there first. We will still go
find a place for me to transfer to in Veydrus though. If we do not, I will just
have to go blindly, maybe to where Scar Harbor is, and find transport from
there."

Soria frowned but did not press the argument. It was
cold in Golis that night, and no warmer in The Golden Elk.

* * * * * * *
*

The morning air was sharp with the smell of fallen
leaves. Grey clouds blotted out every bit of sky and sun, portending snow.
Brannis missed his armor more for its protection against the cold than for any
fear of danger in the Acardian countryside. Soria rode beside him, her mood
much improved since switching from unfamiliar finery into riding leathers.
Though Brannis could not see them hidden under her cloak, he knew that her
runed daggers were no doubt bringing her some measure of comfort as well.

Oriedel Conniton's home was an old farmhouse
situated on land given over to hayfields. The hay had been cut and baled, and
tall stacks dotted the rolling landscape. There were no signs of livestock,
dogs, or farmhands about. No sign hung anywhere in sight to name the place or
identify its owner.

"The directions Davin gave say this ought to be
it," Brannis said. He referenced a slip of paper with beautifully penned
instructions accompanied by a small illustration.

"Well, let’s go knock on the door then,"
Soria said as she dismounted. "You overthink these things, Brannis. If
this is the wrong house, we ask directions. If they get offended, we apologize.
If they are crazed, get out of the way and I'll deal with it." Soria gave
a meaningful look at Avalanche. Brannis had been relieved to find it
undisturbed in their room upon returning to The Golden Elk.

"We are not here to kill anyone."

"Brannis, you'd think you’d have reached the
point of enough people trying to kill you by now that you would just expect it.
I certainly do." She tied her horse's reins to a fence post and waited
while Brannis did likewise.

The farmhouse itself was a bit too spacious to be
called a cottage, but it had the look of one. Glass windows were the only signs
of money at work in the construction. All else about it looked plain and
unassuming, from the unstained wooden beams to the thatching that had gone out
of style so long ago in Acardian cities but was still common in the
countryside. A thin trail of smoke lazed from the chimney, assuring them that
someone was within.

Brannis knocked and waited to hear footsteps. He
thought he saw movement in one of the windows, but it was gone before he could
confirm it.

"Who might you be?" a woman's voice asked.

The door opened a crack. An eye appraised them
briefly before it opened fully. The woman inside was middle aged and wore a
plain brown dress with full sleeves and a closed neck.

"I am Kyrus Hinterdale. This is my betrothed,
Soria. May we have a word with Expert Oriedel Conniton? He had left word that
he wished to see me, and I came as soon as I heard."

"Oh, Mr. Hinterdale? Of course, of course. My
Pa has mentioned you a time or a hundred. I'm Darbie."The woman stepped
aside to allow Brannis and Soria inside. She shut the door as a wave of heat
greeted them. "Sorry about the fire. Pa doesn't abide the chill well
anymore. We sweat through the cold months, for his sake. My husband is out for
more firewood, but I'll go tell Pa you're here."

A rhythmic thumping approached from the other room.
"Confound it girl, I am neither deaf nor infirm," a wheezing voice
announced. A hairless old man, stooped and supported by a cane, came into the
room. Brannis looked closely at his face, recalling the elder sorcerers in
Kadrin and trying to imagine them as old as Oriedel appeared. If he was
twinborn there was a good chance he had seen his twin before—some colleague of
Caladris's for certain.

"Pa, I would have brought them in to see you.
You didn't have to get up."

"Bah. I’ve had enough of lying in bed waiting
for death to claim me," Oriedel said, belying his infirmity by waving his
cane in Darbie's direction. "I have waited a long while for Expert
Hinterdale to turn up, and here he is. I will not converse with him like an
invalid."

"Papa, at least see reason. Let me make up your
chair for you," Darbie said. She did not wait for approval, but arranged a
nest of blankets and pillows in the chair nearest the fire. Oriedel grunted a
thanks and settled himself in.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Expert
Conniton," Brannis said, hoping that the familial squabble was
sufficiently resolved for introductions.

"Yes, Kyrus, nice to finally meet you too.
Darbie my dear, I have a lot of odd business to discuss. I think if they would
be so obliged as to let you borrow one of their horses, today would be a
wonderful day for a ride, before the snowfall arrives."

"Are you sure, Papa?" Darbie gave Oriedel
a long look with hands on her hips like someone who was in charge about the
house.

"Yes, go. They are here on the King's business,
and I must still steward his secrets. I am not yet so feebleminded as to be
useless."

"By all means, pick whichever horse you like.
Both are friendly and well-mannered," Brannis said.

"The one with the black spot on his forehead is
used to a stronger rider, if you think that matters," Soria said,
referring to her own horse. Brannis frowned, but could not dispute it.

"Very well," Darbie said. She went over
and kissed her father's bare head. "You treat these folk well. You waited
a long time to talk to Mr. Hinterdale, don't go bashing him about with that
tongue of yours."

They waited for Darbie to depart, Soria watching
through the window to see which horse she picked. Brannis could tell by her
smug expression that it was Soria's that Darbie had picked.

"Ahh Brannis, there is so much to
discuss."

"So you know as well," Brannis said.

"Know? Oh, I know lots. I even know, unless I
am sorely mistaken, that this is Miss Juliana's twin here before us. I cannot
say I am surprised that you sought her out."

"I found him," Soria corrected. "Now
who are you who knows so much?"

"I think I have it figured out," Brannis
said. He narrowed his eyes, giving Expert Oriedel a shrewd look.
"Axterion!" Brannis smiled. He turned to see if Soria recognized the
resemblance as well.

Oriedel burst out in a fit of laughter, a sick,
rasping sound. It was several moments before he recovered enough to speak.

"Brannis, here I thought you had finally made
something of yourself and you prove yourself a fool. Axterion, if he was ever
twinborn, would have to have died decades ago."

"Maruk?" Soria asked.

"Father?" He pieced together the familial
resemblance and the opinion that he was a failure.

"Yes, yes. Dead in Veydrus, but only half-dead
here. I was never half as good at life extension as Caladris, at least not here
in Tellurak."

Brannis ground his teeth. His shock at discovering
his father gave way to the old hard feelings between the two of them.

"What did you have me come all this way
about?" Brannis asked. "Are you looking for someone to avenge you? Is
that it?"

"No. I have little time left in this world, and
none left in the other. I want to reconcile, if that is still possible."

"I think you may be too late for that,
Father." Brannis folded his arms across his chest. "You had ample
time before you died to make amends, but you never took the opportunity."

"Ah, but it was only just before then that you
had earned a reconciliation."

"Earned?" Brannis asked.

"Earned?" Soria echoed. "He was your
son. He shouldn't have had to prove anything to you for you to treat him like a
son."

"Hah! Brannis, you were everything I worked
against, in both worlds. You were born into a world of privilege, given every
shred of leeway possible, and coasted on the reputation of your family. Even
your admittance to the School of Arms was on the strength of your family ties,
not merit. You were too old for a new student."

"But I excelled at everything. I graduated with
ribbons. I served in combat."

"Yes, and botched the Kelvie mission, by all
accounts. I heard in correspondence with Caladris that you acquitted yourself
much better at Raynesdark. I would have congratulated you on that—had I still
been alive." Oriedel turned toward the fire.