Sourcethief (Book 3) (19 page)

"I was thinking ..." Soria began.

"That would explain the peaceful passing of
breakfast," Brannis joked.  She gave a frown and smile at once, betraying
both her amusement and her lack of approval.

"I was thinking that ... maybe we should head
right to Scar Harbor. We may not like the state we'll find Lord Harwick in, but
we should find out soon."

"We might also sail from Scar Harbor down to
Trebber's Cove and come out a day ahead. I had started to consider the same
thing—my armor is there as well—though I was also thinking of saving two more
days and going straight from Piper's Sands, since we're so close by,"
Brannis said.

"I see I wasn't the only one pondering over
scorched sausage this morning. We can be there aftermorrow," Soria said.

Brannis was kicking snow onto their cook-fire and
stopped short. "What? Is that even a word?"

"In Kheshi it is. That's the closest I could
make it in Acardian. It's a common enough joke in Khesh that you can tell
Acardians don't plan ahead because they have no such word as aftermorrow,"
Soria said.

"Oh. Well, we might make it sometime after
nightfall if we ride hard," Brannis suggested.

"Don't think so. You aren't getting off that
easy. We're still stopping at your parents' farm on the way. I won't put off
meeting them. Besides, in this snow the horses might get hurt if we push them
too hard," Soria said. To make her point, she mounted hers.

"Kyrus's parents," Brannis muttered,
making sure to do so loud enough that Soria heard him. "Never met them
myself."

"Well, you can either introduce them to me or
to both of us, your choice," Soria said. She put her heels to her horse
and rode off, leaving Brannis to scramble into his own saddle and try to catch
up.

The summons was far from unexpected, but the hour
was inconvenient. The messenger was Fenris Destrier, one of the few people
still living in Kadris with the power to knock unbidden on Kyrus's warded door
and awaken him. Kyrus had been dragged from his full attention in Tellurak
unwillingly and found himself shortchanged in the trade of Soria's affections
for Rashan's urgent gathering.

Kyrus ordered up breakfast as he dressed, refusing
to be marched off to the emperor's audience chamber famished and groggy in his
nightclothes. Remembering why the meeting was to take place in the audience
chamber rather than the Inner Sanctum kept him from lingering in his room to
enjoy his meal in leisure. A bit of eggs and bread were all he ate, but the
teacup and kettle he brought with him, the latter bobbing along just behind him
at his command.

The palace halls teemed with sorcerers when he
reached the ground floor. It looked as if every sorcerer in the city had been
summoned, even masters from the Academy. There was a crowd backed up trying to
get into the audience chamber, but it parted for Kyrus. Men and women who had
waited amiably in a tight-packed cluster at the doors jostled and shoved to be
out of his way, teapot and all.
They are probably nearly as afraid of me as
they are of him.

Kyrus noticed that there were nobles mixed in among
the sorcerers, adding a layer of puzzlement to his deductions. He had assumed
the meeting was to be either a haranguing of the empire's sorcerers or yet
another bloodletting. The colorful attire he was accustomed to seeing the
nobles wear to court was scant that morning. Blending in was the order of the
day if one wanted to avoid the warlock's attention.

The chamber was filling rapidly and it appeared as
if the gathering might be forced to spill into the outer halls. Emperor Sommick
sat on his throne upon the low dais while Rashan stood beside him, resting a
hand on the back of his throne. Kyrus noticed that the emperor leaned away from
the hand, as if afraid to brush against it. Beside them were six chairs to each
side, one step below the top. Aloisha and Fenris sat in two of them.

Rashan stood with an inscrutable expression. Kyrus
made a mental note never to play Crackle with the demon. Whatever direction his
morning's plan would take, Rashan gave away nothing by his eyes, face, or
posture. Emperor Sommick, by contrast, looked ill with worry. He cowered in the
restrictive confines of his throne.

"Welcome everyone," Rashan said, voice
barely above his normal conversant volume. The room hushed such that, though
Rashan spoke quietly, he could be heard from the rear of the chamber. "I
would like to introduce you to someone. This man seated here before us is our
emperor, Sommick the First. This is a very simple fact, yet a number of our
colleagues were unable to reconcile it with their vision of how an empire ought
to be run. Having now served five of them, please allow me to assure you that
an empire requires an emperor; they are quite bound up in the very definition
of the word."

Rashan removed his hand from the throne, to the
emperor's visible relief. He hopped up onto one of the ten empty chairs on the
second step of the dais. "Those who had once schemed to replace an emperor
with a construct of aether were killed this past autumn. I had extended
leniency to those whose roles were of obedience rather than delegation. I gave
them a chance at redemption. Few ... far too few ... took my great mercy for
the gift that it was. The Inner Sanctum is even now being scrubbed clean of the
blood of traitors who thought that because my eyes looked to our enemies abroad
I did not have able and loyal eyes left behind to watch over their
machinations."

Rashan spread his arms, indicating the row of a
dozen chairs. "Nine seats unoccupied—more dead among the Inner Circle than
yet living. I will admit that in a moment of ill temper I considered disbanding
the Inner Circle and seeing to all the Imperial Circle's affairs myself. I am
at least certain of my own continued loyalty to the Kadrin Empire. But no, the
Inner Circle has served the empire well before and shall again, but with fresh
appointees."

Rashan stepped down to a more dignified station at
the emperor's side. "You have all been so very quiet. Let us see if we can
rouse some life to what must be a number of quite overwrought minds. What
virtues must a sorcerer possess to ascend to the heights of the Inner
Circle?" There was silence in the wake of his question. He posed it in the
form of an Academy master's query; he knew the answers he sought and awaited
correct responses.
I wonder what the penalty would be for a wrong answer.
The ones that the Academy taught were well ensconced in Brannis's memories.
"Ah, but no one is talkative this morning. Very well, I shall not force
you."

He moved over next to Fenris and laid a hand on the
elderly sorcerer's shoulder.

"Wisdom," Fenris called out, his voice
echoing from the vaulted ceiling. Rashan nodded. The warlock kept that hand in
place and rested his other on Aloisha's shoulder. She perked up, straightening
her back before responding.

"Ambition," she practically shouted, eyes
flashing. By all accounts she ought to have been proud. At that very moment, by
rank she was third among the entire Imperial Circle.

Rashan lifted his hands from the two remaining Inner
Circle members and into the air, upturned as he waited. "And power,"
he finished. They were not entirely in line with the ideals that the Academy
taught. Scholarship had been replaced by ambition in Rashan's virtues, but
Kyrus suspected some more subtle game. He waited for what would come next.

"Nine positions are available among the Inner
Circle. The nine most worthy candidates will be selected to replace them. I
shall choose three each who best exemplify my three virtues. The three wisest
among you, the three most ambitious from among our rising young sorcerers, and
of course the three most powerful."

The room began to murmur as if it were a living
thing. Rashan smiled.
He hates idleness, the passive acceptance. He would
rather they object than obey ...
Kyrus looked up, seeking Rashan's gaze,
the warlock's eyes lit and his smile grew when he caught Kyrus's look. The
demon winked.
Ambition! He wants someone to just claim those three spots
right here. Not me though
. The wink was hint enough to caution Kyrus
against spoiling the puzzle for everyone else.

"Wisdom is a terribly chancy thing to judge in
a short time," Rashan said, quieting the room once more. "I have
several in mind. Fenris will be interviewing them, subject to my final
approval. Ambition I have yet to decide on proper criteria for
qualification." Kyrus fought to keep a grin from his face.
Pride in my own
cleverness will get me in trouble one day.
"As for power, who can
resist a draw? Those three positions we will fill after lunchtime today, on the
Imperial Academy grounds, since I doubt we could fit all our eager onlookers
within the palace courtyard."

Emperor Sommick looked up to Rashan. The warlock
nodded to him.

"This audience is at an end," Sommick
announced. The room began to clear. Conversations sprung up, especially toward
the rear of the chamber, where being overheard by the warlock was less a concern.
There was odd mix of anxiety and excitement. Kyrus pushed his way against the
current of sorcerers. He was close to the front to begin with and none wanted
to bar his path, so it was no difficult feat.

"You killed nine of the Inner Circle last night
and half the sorcerers of the Circle are leaving with smiles on their
faces," Kyrus mused aloud within the warlock's hearing.

"Oh, that reminds me," Rashan said. He
raised his voice and called out over the departing cacophony of conversations.
"If any of you are missing friends or acquaintances, a number of lesser
conspirators were dealt with later last night as well. Check with the blood
scholars, to whom I have given the names of those whose bloodlines have been
... trimmed a bit."

Kyrus looked at Rashan with incredulity. Rashan
caught the look and frowned in reply. Kyrus did not shy, but kept his
disapproval written plainly on his face.

"What?" Rashan snapped. "I tried the
gentle hand last time and the infection festered. This time I just lanced the
boil all at once."

Kyrus looked at the others who had remained behind.
A few guards stood against walls—he caught Varnus's gaze and lingered just a
fraction. There were Aloisha and Fenris, risen from their seats but seeming
ill-inclined to depart. Emperor Sommick had gathered attendants and departed by
a rear exit as soon as decorum allowed. It was still not private enough.

"I would like a word with you in private,"
Kyrus said to Rashan. He looked at no one else.

"Hey Brannis, you cannot just be rid of us. You
are just the emperor's—" Aloisha began.

"Very well," Rashan cut her off. "You
have other duties to attend, be about them. Guards, you are dismissed."
Fenris chuckled and said not a word. His steps were slower than most in the
Circle, but none of them took him any direction but away, once he was
commanded. Aloisha huffed, looked sorely tempted to make some argument, but
ultimately followed in Fenris's path, passed him, and disappeared from view.
The guards sorted themselves out by the various entrances, and were astute
enough to close all doors behind them.

"Efficiency. It does get better around
here," Rashan said, gazing after the departed guards.

"In part, that is what I wished to speak with
you about," Kyrus said. Rashan turned, his attention snapping back to
Kyrus.

"The efficacy of the guardsmen?" Rashan
asked, incredulous.

"No, of when things will get better.
Bloodlettings in the Sanctum are beginning to become a regularity. We are
pressing a war against peoples who no longer have the will or ability to strike
back at us. Raynesdark continues to sit atop a volcano without its ancient
wards against eruption. When will we start seeing 'better'?"

"I think it will start with an Inner Circle
that no longer devotes its energies to subverting all thought of imperial
rule," Rashan said with spread hands.

"What about ending the war?" Kyrus asked.
"Devoting our efforts to recovering the Staff of Gehlen?"

Rashan looked to the floor and shook his head.
"You are the least warlike knight I have ever met, Brannis. Why did you
even wish to join the knighthood? There are more than two paths in life,
sorcerer or knight. You might have made a fine tutor, or a scribe, perhaps even
a wet-nurse." Rashan grinned at him with no mirth in his eyes. Kyrus felt
warm. His breathing quickened and he clenched his jaw.

"Just because I mislike killing does not mean I
am a coward or a craven," Kyrus said through gritted teeth. He matched the
warlock's glare a moment, realizing the path he was heading down. He turned
away. "You goad me. Why?"

"We are all creatures of aggression. I pay
attention you know; you have your points of pride, the soft spots where a sharp
word draws blood. Words bear little on me; I have heard too many to fear them.
What I cannot abide is violence against either myself or Kadrin. You? You
cannot bear being looked down upon or having your worth questioned. You try so
hard to take on everything that the thought of inadequacy galls you. I
understand you, and accept that flaw in your character. I would expect that you
will allow for a difference of opinion over how much blood ought to quench the
thirst of my indignity. We were attacked. They do not get to choose when they
have paid a heavy enough price."

"You decide then. When will it be enough?"
Kyrus asked, taking a deep breath.

Rashan was closer to Danil's height than to his.
Kyrus towered over him. The primal part of his brain told him to settle the
argument with force.

"Boredom is a poor excuse, I suppose,"
Rashan said. He turned his back to Kyrus and began to pace. "I feel a duty
to continue even as I hack apart armies like some maddened farmer among his own
chickens. You think I fail to see that?" Rashan whipped around to face
Kyrus, who stumbled back a step. "I need some more plausible motive to end
it, or I lose credibility."

"My counsel?" Kyrus suggested, drawing a
skeptical smirk from Rashan. "The advice of the Inner Circle, once there
is one again, that is. An order from the emperor?"

"The latter is laughable. I would lose
all
credibility if I take orders from that slobbering hedonist ..." Rashan
shook his head. "Your other thought though, that might have some promise.
Return some semblance of power to the Circle ... that could be useful."

"Who are you going to pick?" Kyrus asked.
"You must have some inkling already."

"No," Rashan replied. "Well, perhaps
a little. I took myself nearly out of the selection process this time. I have
no natural allies left. I hope to gain a competent Inner Circle, if not one
that is personally loyal to me. Fenris will select three, subject to my
approval; those will not be seated before I next return. The ambitious ones
will select themselves. Thank you for not showing them the simplest way. I saw
in your eye that you puzzled it out immediately. I have no idea when three more
will step forward to claim a place among the Inner Circle. The two who win the
draw later today will have their seats though."