Serpent's Bane (Snakesblood Saga Book 3)
Page 16
The captain's choice of words made fury flare in his chest, but Rune clenched his jaw shut so tightly it hurt. As much as he wanted to argue, he felt more of a coward than Garam knew. Not that the man would realize it, nor were his reasons any of the captain's business. Silent but still scowling, he stripped off his borrowed coat and peeled off the layers of shirts beneath. The sweat on his brow grew cool. The hair at his temples itched. He cast the clothing to the floor and retrieved his uniform from the bed, ignoring the ache in his back and strained arm. Another figure appeared in the doorway just as he finished dressing.
“There you are. I was wondering where the two of you—oh!” Sera clapped a hand to her mouth and rushed to her brother's side. She lifted his arm to inspect the bloody gashes in his sleeve. “What's happened here?”
“Nothing.” Garam's tone made it clear there would be no discussion. “I'm fine. Good that you're here, though. You're going to take him to see Councilor Parthanus. Let him know what's going on and see what useful information he can give us. The councilor hasn't been sitting on any meetings just yet, but he has enough connections that he'll know what's happening.”
“I don't need an escort,” Rune snapped.
“If you think you're going anywhere alone, you're more stupid than I thought.” Garam jerked his arm from Sera's grasp and turned to face her. “And you will stay with him until we move out tomorrow morning, understand?”
Sera glowered at him and planted her fists against her hips. “Why should I play babysitter?”
“Because you're one of few mages with power here, which means you can put him down without breaking a sweat. If it comes to it.”
She raised one white brow and her eyes darted to Rune. “Oh, bitten by your new dog already?”
Rune gave her an ugly, mirthless smile.
The captain's seemingly perpetual frown deepened.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Come on. I'm tired, and I'm sure Councilor Parthanus has fine beds in his guest room. Maybe even a nice place in the stable for you.” Sera fluttered a hand in the air as she turned and strode out of the office with a sway in her hips.
Rune met Garam's eyes, just briefly, before he glanced away and sullenly trudged after her.
“Well, that's what you get for thinking you stood a chance against Captain Kaith. Even the men you bested in the arena were afraid of him. They would have dropped their swords at his feet. King Vicamros chose him for a reason, you know.” Redoram pulled his bag of runestones from the table drawer and gave it a shake. “Time for a game?”
“The sword is mine by right. He has no business keeping it from me.” Rune shook his head angrily, pacing between the couch and bookshelves like a caged animal. He felt like one, trapped within the Royal City, bound by agreements he shouldn't have had to make.
“Speak a language I can understand,” Sera interrupted from her place across the table from the old man. “Else I'll have Garam throw both of you back in prison for conspiracy.”
Redoram cleared his throat and slipped back into his own tongue. “Regardless, breaking into his office to take it back was foolish. I'm surprised you even tried. I heard them speaking about your sword when you were arrested, and if it really is a kingsword, Kaith is not unreasonable in assuming it came to you through illegitimate means.”
Rune glared at him, irritated by both his words and the language he spoke them in. It was harder for him to speak the local dialect when he was angry, and stopping to translate in his head only made his mood worse. “I am not a thief,” he snapped.
“And yet you were arrested for stealing,” Redoram said, amused.
“Because my only other choice was to starve!”
“What is a kingsword, Councilor?” Sera asked, sliding gold bangles up and down her arm. She still wore her green and gold finery, though a member of Redoram's staff had scurried off to find something else for her to wear to bed.
Rune clenched his jaw. He shook his head and returned to pacing.
Redoram put his runestones back into their drawer. “An unusual weapon, named such because the only known kingswords were given to rulers across the globe. Gifts from a king of the ancient Aldaanan to his peers. There weren't many, fewer than fifteen.”
“And he had one of them?” She jerked her head in Rune's direction.
“So it would seem,” Redoram murmured. “To my understanding, there were only five accounted for before he arrived in the Royal City, most stashed away in treasuries or mounted above some wealthy king's throne. A pity, really. It seems a waste of a good weapon and an unusual artifact.”
Sera leaned back and caught Rune by the sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Quit pacing, you're making me nervous. So what makes these swords so special? I'd think a king would rather have something gilded and crusted in gems to show his power.”
“They are strong,” Rune said. Both Redoram and Sera turned toward him as he spoke. “They cannot be broken.”
Redoram nodded. “Precisely. The Aldaanan don't share their smithing secrets, but you know their fondness for spinning magic into everything they do. The kingswords were made to be the only weapon the kings would ever need. Never chipping, never cracking, never breaking. Practicality aside, they were meant to be a symbol of lasting unification in a more peaceful time.”
Rune snorted and leaned against the back of the couch. “If they are meant to represent peace, it's no wonder so many are missing.”
The old councilor gave a wistful sigh. “So it would seem.”
A moment passed in silence before Rune spoke again. “Captain Kaith says we are to march into Aldaan tomorrow.”
“Yes, I've heard.”
The old man's dismissive tone made him frown. His claws dug into the cushioned back of the couch. “Is there nothing more you can tell us?”
Redoram shrugged. “That you will be working with the Aldaanan, and that some of them won't be happy to see some of you. While the Aldaanan get on well enough with most of the Royal City, they have little love for mages of the Grand College and even less for the so-called Eldani of the rest of the world.”
Rune's brow furrowed. “So-called?”
“That's beside the point,” Sera snapped, the gold beads in her white hair clicking as she shook her head. “Have you heard nothing about their numbers? The numbers of the college mages? Where we are to set up camp? Anything?”
“No, nothing. At least, not yet. Believe me, my lady, I am as anxious for information as you. There are some people I can speak to, but I likely won't have anything to tell you until the small hours of the morning. I am still getting reacquainted with council business, and it seems Lord Survas now holds my position as representative of the scholars, which makes it difficult to know where I stand.” Redoram grimaced, but he clapped his hands together and rose stiffly from the couch. “That said, I would be happy to discuss whatever I learn with the two of you over breakfast. The city will be in such an uproar tomorrow that it would be much easier to have you close at hand, rather than trying to fight your way back here before your departure. One of my staff can show you to the guest rooms I have to offer.”
“Just one room, Councilor Parthanus,” Sera said.
Redoram's thick white brows lifted in surprise.
“Not like that, Redoram.” Rune glowered at her back. “I'd sooner swallow a hornet than share a bed with her.”
Sera scoffed. “As if I'd ever consider it! My brother's orders are that I'm not to let the lizard out of my sight. I trust you can arrange for separate beds.”
“Of course, of course.” Redoram sounded shaken. He rubbed his hands together and nodded, the gesture as meaningless as his laugh. “Upstairs, then. My staff will show you where you can wash and change.”
“Thank you, Councilor.” Sera gave a lofty sniff as she pushed herself up from the couch. With her head held high, she glided into the hallway to intercept a maid.
Rune rolled his eyes and started after her, though he paused when Redoram met him at the doorway.
“A moment, yes, but no time for a game. I didn't bring my runestones with me, anyway.” Rune slipped back into his mother tongue.
Redoram didn't hesitate to follow his example. “Picking a fight with the captain was a foolish move, for more reasons than one. You've not made the best name for yourself here, and your actions haven't helped. If your sword really is that important to you, do yourself a favor and keep in mind that Captain Kaith has little respect for dishonesty.”
Rune's shoulders bunched at the mage's words. There was something in Redoram's tone he didn't like, an echo of the way Garam had accused him of cowardice.
“You'll be at his mercy the whole time you're in Aldaan,” Redoram continued. “Best to keep your head down and do as you're told. I know you're not eager to fight again after the arena, but you haven't got any options now.”
“I never had any to begin with.” Rune pulled away to follow Sera and the maid upstairs. “Good night, Councilor.”
The old man sighed and turned back into the parlor as his guests departed.
Rune smoothed his sleeves as he made his way up the stairs. The dried blood from his split lip itched. He lifted a hand to rub his chin. As if in answer to his discomfort, a maid carried a fresh pitcher of water to the washstand in the room. A mirror hung above the basin, and the room held two beds. Sera inspected both of them with an approving eye. Then she shot Rune a venomous look and followed the maid back into the hall, muttering something about a separate washroom. Just as well, he figured. He didn't need more than a chance to wash off the blood, and he didn't much feel like sharing. Or waiting turns, for that matter.
He pushed the door closed and rubbed his tired eyes with the side of one scaly hand as he crossed to the washstand. The water in the pitcher was perfectly clear when he poured some into the basin. He'd forgotten what a commodity clean water was. What they'd given him in prison was cloudy and often tasted of dust.
The water was cold, too, and it made his upper arms rise with goose bumps when he splashed his face. It took some scrubbing to get the dried crust of black blood off his lip and chin. He studied the injury in the mirror when it was clean. It still hurt, but the swelling was already almost gone. Sighing, he leaned against the washstand and studied his reflection.
It was strange to see how he'd outwardly changed. Rune had never thought himself soft, but everything about the past year had served to harden him. Hard travels, hard times, a struggle just to survive. Time in prison and the arena had put more muscle on his frame, and proper meals had almost erased the gauntness of his face. Much had changed, and his circumstances had improved, but a year prior, no one ever would have called him a coward.
The accusation still rankled, a sting left long after the nettle was gone. Redoram hadn't helped, either, but what stung worse than his mentor's words was knowing he was right. He and Garam were both right. A coward, a thief, a liar. Rune locked eyes with his reflection. He was all these things, he realized, and the realization hurt. He saw them in himself, ugly traits the mirror threw back at him. He hated it, worse than he'd ever hated anything, even the inhuman form he'd been born with. And for the first time, he hated himself.
He felt it first. A prickling, crawling itch that crept over his skin, up his neck and across the side of his face. A shadow blossomed on his cheek, gray tendrils spiderwebbing from its center as his skin crackled and hardened, flakes falling away as it changed to stone. Rune threw himself back from the washstand with a panicked shout, flinging the basin into the mirror. Both shattered as he fell. His back hit the floor. Shards of the mirror rang as they crashed into the hardwood.
The door flew open. “I can't leave you alone for a minute!” Sera all but snarled, though there was the faintest hint of concern in her eyes. “What happened?”
Rune glanced to the mirror shards on the floor, myriad reflections showing nothing out of the ordinary. He swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Sera pointed at the broken glass and porcelain scattered across the floor. “You broke a mirror! Do you have any idea how much those cost?”
“Bad luck,” a maid murmured behind her, earning herself a glare.
Rune touched two fingers to his face. Soft flesh gave way beneath his scaled fingers and he squeezed his eyes closed in relief. “I'll replace it.”
Sera waved the maid away and crept inside to join him. She knelt at his side and picked up the biggest pieces of the mirror. “Haven't you gotten yourself into enough trouble for one night? No, don't answer that. I don't want to hear.” She dropped the shards into the pitcher.
The maid returned with a broom and shooed Sera out of the way. She swept up the broken glass and took her leave while Rune crawled onto one of the beds. He cradled his head in his hands as Sera turned her back to him to change clothes.
“Well, with any luck, we'll have some sort of good news or information from Councilor Parthanus by morning.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Here's hoping that breaking a mirror isn't really bad luck, hmm?”
He didn't reply.
Sera shrugged and extinguished the lamps before she crawled into the second bed. Soft sounds of the house staff at work filled the darkness for some time. Eventually, she gave a heavy sigh. “Close your eyes.”
Rune turned toward her in the dark. “What?”
“You're a free mage. Your eyes are glowing and the light is keeping me awake. Close your eyes.”
He stared at the shadow of her beneath the blankets. Deciding it wasn't worth an argument, he turned to lay on his side with his back to her. He closed his eyes but sleep didn't come easily, memories of a familiar face cast in stone haunting his mind.
It was just before dawn when a maid appeared at the door and roused them from sleep with the declaration that Councilor Parthanus had returned. Sera excused herself to a separate washroom to primp and to change, trading her borrowed nightgown for the green dress she'd worn to the formal dinner the night before. Rune had only his uniform. He brushed a hand over the wrinkles as he trudged down the stairs and arrived in the parlor a few steps ahead of Sera. The wrinkles did not budge.
Redoram waited with a steaming drink in hand, looking both troubled and weary. “I hope the two of you appreciate everything I've been through. Dealing with the council is never pleasant, but dealing with the council in the middle of the night on the eve of a war declaration is worse than I could have imagined.” He gestured to the breakfast tray on the low table in front of him. The runestone board had been put away.
Sera pushed past Rune and sat in the velvet-upholstered chair beside the old man. “I'm sure we both appreciate your struggle.” She helped herself to a pastry and a hot cup of coffee. Rune made a face as she offered him a cup, and she raised a brow. “You don't like coffee?”
“I prefer tea.” He settled on the empty couch across the table from them, resting his elbows on his knees.
She snorted. “Tea is a woman's drink.”
Rune shrugged. “And a man's drink, if it's what's in his cup. Redoram, what did you learn?”
“The two of you are departing for Aldaan before noon, though I'm certain you already knew that. Fortunately, there were some tidbits that came from the meeting that you'll find more useful than that one.” Redoram paused to sip his coffee, his shoulders slumping with fatigue. “I thought it odd they would send the Captain of the Guard off with the army. The Royal City needs little in the way of defense, especially against mages, but the guard and the army are separate entities. You understand.”
Rune nodded in encouragement for him to continue.
“It's a political move,” the old scholar said, “since none of the councilors are fit to go and King Vicamros will be busy here. They've chosen Captain Kaith as a representative of the Royal City. Those of you who are accompanying him will be sent to meet with the Aldaanan leaders and assist them directly.”
“What makes you think we will be at Garam's side?” Sera asked.
“You're his sister, aren't you?” Rune studied the food on the tray without any appetite. He'd barely slept, the vision of what had happened at the mirror playing through his mind a thousand times and robbing him of rest. “That's reason enough for him to keep you close.”
Her eyes narrowed and she studied him suspiciously for a long moment. Then she looked back to the old mage beside her and tossed her head. “Nevertheless, it's good to know where we will be. And good to know that Garam's position hasn't been forgotten. He is an important man. I had feared they were trying to make a statement by sending us with the first wave.”
“They may be.” Redoram peered at Rune over the rim of his cup. “The front lines would take care of several problems they seem to be concerned with.”
“I know the council dislikes me. But I don't die so easily.” Bitterness colored Rune's words. He felt a twinge in his side at the thought of being stabbed. Twice, now, his injuries had been grave enough he should have died. And twice he'd pulled through, with the aid of mages. He'd been closer to death then than any time he'd set foot in the arena, and if that was the best the Royal City had to throw at him, he wasn't concerned about the councilors and their knights.
But then, he reminded himself, this war wouldn't put him up against councilors. Mages were a different story.
Sera took another pastry from the tray, along with a handful of dark berries from a white dish. “Do you know much about who we will be dealing with in Aldaan?”
The question made Redoram frown. “Very little, I'm afraid. The Aldaanan tend to keep to themselves. They follow King Vicamros without question or fuss, but they interact with the other two provinces in the Triad very little. Aside from the occasional trade caravan that comes through the Royal City on its way into Roberian, we don't see them at all. I do know they have an elected leader amongst themselves, rather than an official ruler. Leadership changes every few hundred years, when the leader declares themselves wearied and wishes to rest. Sometimes they serve as leader again at a later time, other times not.”