The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  “Let’s hope that means I’ll find Nereus’s experiments soon. The last lot we retrieved from the astrolabe was interesting but not what we’re after.”

  “Do you want to take another trip into the astrolabe? I’m sure it’ll let you in without me.”

  “I suppose I have to try. Though this is nice too.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  Penelope turned in his arms. “It is. Unfortunately, sitting here all day won’t help us defeat Thevetat.”

  Alexis let out a sigh. “After Abaddon is dead and Thevetat is gone, I plan on having a lot of lazy days with you, Doctor Bryne.”

  “We will. I promise.” She kissed him to seal the deal.

  DOWN IN the Archives, Penelope gawked at the mess that littered her office. “I swear, I’m never letting Constantine or Phaidros in here again.”

  The Archives usually cleaned up after her each day, and yet papers were now scattered over chairs and both of their desks, books sat in piles, and wineglasses had been abandoned on the floor.

  “At least their mess was productive for once. Are you sure the astrolabe will let me in without you?” asked Alexis.

  “I don’t see why not. I’m going to start translating all of Poseidon’s notes that you’ve found and see if I can build a list of different ways to use my magic following his instructions.” Penelope tapped the pile of books on her desk.

  Alexis opened the astrolabe. “If I get stuck in here, you had better rescue me.”

  “Five hours, and then I’m coming after you.” Penelope leaned down and whispered to the astrolabe, “Listen to him.”

  Alexis’s eyes shined with amusement. “Do you think that will help?”

  Penelope shrugged. “Can’t hurt.” She stepped back as Alexis pressed the sigil and disappeared, leaving her alone amongst the mess of her office and emotions.

  She stared at the completed wall of research, Tim’s words printed and stuck on, drawn over with notes and covered with photos. It was a visual map of the madness of his final days, along with months of her own efforts to manically decode it so she didn’t have to deal with the guilt and grief gnawing at her. Bile rose up in her throat, and she reached for one of the sticky notes and pulled it off the glass. Her vision clouded with tears, and she tore at the wall until shredded paper and crushed photos littered the floor like confetti.

  “Spring-cleaning?” Zo asked, and she jerked in surprise. Constantine was with him, and both were dressed in workout clothes and armed with swords and daggers.

  She turned away to hide her tears. “No point in it staying up now.”

  “What has Alecto done to upset you?”

  “Nothing. He’s busy in the astrolabe hunting something that’s actually going to help us, like he should’ve been doing from the beginning instead of wasting time with me and my own pointless hunt.”

  “Ah, she’s having a tantrum because the ring wouldn’t give up its secrets,” Constantine said to Zo.

  “I’m not having a tantrum. I’m cleaning up—”

  “Definitely a tantrum.” Zo folded his arms. “You know, for someone who was so determined on finding not only Atlantis, but the ring of Solomon, you give up remarkably easily when it comes to magic. You don’t know the first thing about relics or magic.”

  “Then you should go tell Poseidon to choose another heir if I’m so hopeless at everything.”

  “Those are your words, not mine. You’re not hopeless—”

  Penelope pulled the ring out of her singlet. “This was the only thing I had on Thevetat. I have no real magic. I thought this stupid trinket would mean I could actually be useful in this fight. I’m not a magician. I’m not a warrior. I’m a fucking archaeologist!”

  Constantine closed the space between them, and before she could react, he picked her up and flung her over one broad shoulder.

  “Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Con…” Zo cast a nervous glance at the astrolabe.

  “Put me down this instant, you Neanderthal!” Penelope shouted as she wriggled in his grip.

  “No. You said you don’t want to be useless. Well then, let’s turn you into something else.” He carried her through the stacks, only laughing when she gave him a tongue lashing. When they reached Lyca’s training area, he dumped her on the sparring mat. Red-faced and furious, she took a swing at him. He dodged it as if he’d been expecting it.

  “Do you have any training in a martial art?” he asked.

  “Only Krav Maga for some self-defense.” Penelope straightened her singlet. She turned to walk away, only to find Zo blocking her path. “Get out of my way.”

  “Make me,” he said, but then his expression softened. “Even Marco has been training to handle Thevetat’s priests. Alexis can’t be watching over you the whole time we’re on Milos. You need to learn to handle a dagger, at least.”

  “I recall it was me who put a knife in Kreios.”

  “Kreios let you put a knife in him. It’s quite a different thing, Penelope. You and Alexis will need to get close to Abaddon and Thevetat during the ritual. You need to be able to watch his back. Otherwise, he’ll end up as dead as he was during Carnevale.”

  Penelope’s eyes narrowed. “Using Alexis as a bargaining chip is a low blow, Zotikos.”

  “Not if it works,” Constantine said. “What do you think, Zo? We could get her using a pugio in a few days if she stops bitching.”

  “I’m starting to see why everyone calls you a prick.”

  “Sticks and stones, Doctor Bryne. I wore that ring for most of my life, and I could never read its inscription, but you don’t see me crying about it. You’re disappointed—I understand that—but you really need to ask yourself if giving up is a part of your nature or not. If not, then you’ll leave the books to Alexis and train every day until we go to Milos.”

  Penelope wanted to lash out at his arrogance, but it didn’t make him less right. She couldn’t force the ring to give up its secrets. She couldn’t make magic easier to use. She could get a refresher on self-defense and learn how to use a dagger.

  Her stubborn streak forced her spine straight and her shoulders square. “If you’re so confident you can turn me into a soldier, do your worst.”

  Constantine’s reply was a smile as cold as a wolf’s right before it goes for the throat.

  INSIDE THE ASTROLABE, Alexis touched the blue leather spine of another book and sent his magic inside of it. He searched for any reference that could be helpful to him. He didn’t approve of cheating, but he was running out of time.

  They all were.

  Away from Penelope, he could let his own frustrations show. She was feeling bad enough that her translation magic had failed her. She didn’t need to see how disappointed he was as well. Alexis hadn’t lied when he said he’d never believed the ring of Solomon would be the absolute answer. All gods could be fickle when bestowing favors, and relying on them to defeat Thevetat and Abaddon was no kind of plan.

  “Nereus, if you foresaw all of this, you could’ve made the process easier on us by cataloging your books.” It was like the whole room was designed to frustrate him. He wasn’t always the tidiest of people, but at least his chaos had order. Plus, the books were all full of magic, and that was the most distracting element of all.

  Alexis picked up another book and placed his palm over the cover. It dealt with brontology and biology, so he put it aside and reached for another. He didn’t know how much time was passing in the outside world, and he did his best not to think about anything beyond the astrolabe, but he was worried about Penelope more than ever. She hadn’t grieved properly, and now that she didn’t have the ring to search for, he could see all the pain she’d buried rising to the surface.

  Focus! Penelope is a grown woman.

  Something rattled on the next shelf over, and a small, black leather journal fell forward. As soon as Alexis touched it, pain and loss and despair raced through him. He dropped it in surprise and shook out his hand.

  Those emotions wer
e not mine. He looked around, even though he knew he was alone. There was no strange magic in the air either. Alexis cast a protection over his hands before reaching down to pick up the book once more, then sat down on the lounge chair and opened it. Each page was filled with Nereus’s handwriting, but it wasn’t the neat, disciplined script he was used to reading. This was haphazard and angry, pain and frustration in every stroke and dash of the Atlantean characters.

  The whole of Atlas stinks of funeral incense, people burning sacrifices and showing their respect for someone they didn’t know. They knew the king; they never knew the man. They never saw him walking through the villages, giving money and advice, stopping storms that would’ve decimated crops, or smiling as new colts played in the fields…

  It was a journal, and even without dates on the entries, Alexis knew she was talking about Poseidon’s death. His cult had already risen and was well-established by the time Alexis was born, so he’d never imagined what Atlantis was like before that. Nereus had known Poseidon as the magician, not the god-king. She’d rarely talked about him, only to correct Alexis on assumptions of his divinity.

  “He was a powerful magician, but he wasn’t a god like they claim. Always remember, Alexis, no matter how powerful you get, what wonders you work, we are men, not gods. We are only more advanced because we live longer to learn from our mistakes,” she’d told him not long after he mastered his first piece of advanced magic.

  Poseidon had given up his crown at least a hundred years before his death and had rarely been seen by the public. His sons had ruled in his place, and Poseidon had gone wandering.

  “Perhaps he went searching for his heir that Penelope told him about,” Alexis mused. He turned the pages tentatively, conscious of invading Nereus’s privacy while she was grieving her mentor and lover. Despite that, he had a feeling somewhere within the pages were the answers he sought.

  Abaddon, the worm, came to the citadel again today. This time, he brought Atlas’s men with him and demanded that I go to the king. Atlas isn’t a fool, but for a king, he’s too easily led by lesser men. If I’d known what madness Abaddon was whispering in his ears, I’d have watched over the king more carefully. Resurrect Poseidon! Didn’t he do enough for them? He made Atlantis into a great nation, protected it like a father does a child. His shade deserves its rest…

  Gods help me, they’ve removed his body from his tomb, and the priests have been working to restore it. Where did Abaddon find this magic? I fear that in my efforts for peace, and by letting him into the citadel library, he’s found this horrible power in my own house. I can’t defy Atlas and put the citadel in danger, and fighting the enemy within his own walls is easier than outside of them…

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Alexis tried to turn the next page, but there was a wad of them stuck together. No matter how he tugged at them, they wouldn’t part. “Gods damn you, Nereus!”

  His magic poured through his hands and into the book. The black leather swelled and wriggled in his grasp, radiating magic. It pulled itself free from his hands and lifted into the air before it burst open, pieces of paper exploding out and showering down on him. Then the journal shrank back to its usual size and dropped into his lap.

  Alexis picked up one of the loose sheets. It was a made of different paper than that of the journal, thin as onion skin. He unfolded it, smoothing it out on the small table beside him. At first, his mind couldn’t make sense of the tiny writing and diagrams. He turned the page around and around.

  “A puzzle.” He hurried to smooth out another sheet. He studied it, excitement blooming inside him. Not only had Nereus figured out a way to counteract whatever magic Abaddon planned, she’d also made sure that no spy would ever find it. And if they did, they would’ve spent a lifetime trying to work out the answers. Nereus and her games were something that Alexis was familiar with. As he’d progressed as her apprentice, Nereus had created such challenges for him to solve.

  When the war had broken out, she’d often send different magicians a single page, and it wasn’t until they were all together that they’d be able to put the message together.

  Alexis didn’t have time to assemble it in the astrolabe, so he set about gathering all the loose pages that had flown about the room. Powerful, strange magic pulsed once, and something clanged behind him. Sitting on top of the fallen journal was something he’d not seen in nine thousand years.

  “It can’t be.” There was a tube made of orichalcum, carved with magic characters that kept it from being opened by anyone but its intended recipient. A strip of aqua blue cloth, embroidered with golden tridents, was wrapped around it and sealed with Poseidon’s golden insignia. A royal missive.

  Alexis picked it up and studied the seal more closely. THE HEIR OF GODS had been stitched into the aqua fabric as the missive’s recipient.

  “Penelope,” he whispered. Quickly, he gathered up the last of the pages, the journal, and the missive. He had to get to her. He had to get to his tower to study the pages. He had to find out what the message from Poseidon said.

  “Please return me to the Archives.” For a moment, he thought the astrolabe was going to ignore him, but then he was being dragged back through the device and into Penelope’s office.

  Alexis couldn’t sense her in the Archives, so he portaled to his tower. The sun had set outside, and he knew he should probably find Penelope and something to eat. Instead, he cleared one of his worktables and started to smooth out the pieces of paper he’d collected. Nereus had left him a magical riddle, and his mind could focus on nothing else until it was solved.

  A SHIFT in the moíra desmós told Penelope that Alexis had come out of the astrolabe. When he didn’t come down to eat dinner, she put a tray together and headed for the tower. Her body ached from the hours of training Zo and Constantine had put her through, but it was the good kind of tired that hopefully meant she’d sleep the night through instead of staying up riddled with anxiety. The physical exertion had also improved her mood and beaten back the despair that was trying to claw her insides to pieces.

  At the top of the tower, Alexis was bent over his worktable, deep in thought and murmuring under his breath. Magic glimmered under his skin, and Penelope took a moment to watch him work, his long fingers sketching symbols in the air while his eyes followed some writing on the page in front of him. She was growing used to being around the magicians, but occasionally, she was still struck dumb by how beautiful Alexis was, dressed in another of his entari robes—wine red with golden hieroglyphs—and lost in work that he loved. He looked exactly like ancient, mad magi from another time, and she wanted to kiss him just because she could. You got it so bad, Carolyn’s voice echoed at the back of her head.

  “I thought you might have found something interesting,” Penelope said softly so she didn’t startle him.

  He straightened. “I’m sorry, cara. I was going to come down…”

  Penelope waved away his apologies and placed the tray down on a spare table. “Don’t worry about it. Constantine and Zo have kept me busy by kicking my ass from one end of the Archives to the other.”

  Alexis’s smile faltered. “They did what?”

  “Not literally. Well, sort of. Come and eat, and I’ll tell you. Then you can explain what it is you’re working on.” She sat down in one of his armchairs and poured him some mint tea. He relented, coming to sit down opposite her, so she told him about Constantine’s boot camp.

  “As much as I hate the idea of you being caught in the conflict, it’s wise to prepare you for it.”

  “He’s a good teacher, even if I only want to learn so I can kick his ass when he gets too arrogant.” Penelope sipped her tea. “Find something good in the astrolabe?”

  Alexis leaned back in his chair, a smile playing about his lips. “Many somethings. I believe I’ve found the magic that will stop Thevetat’s ritual. The only problem is that it’s broken up into pieces, and I need to solve how to put it together before I can attempt to use the magic itse
lf.”

  Alexis explained how he’d come across Nereus’s journal, and how he’d felt when it relinquished all the plans hidden within it.

  “Nereus always did like to make me work for answers.” He rested his chin in his hand, watching her thoughtfully. “I also found something for you. Or rather, it found me.” He reached into his robe and took out a slender tube as long as her forearm.

  “Is that orichalcum?” Her hand drifted down to touch the cuff on her wrist.

  “It is. This is a royal missive, and it’s addressed to you. There is only one heir of gods.” Alexis offered it to her, and she took it eagerly, running her fingers over the engraved metal.

  “Are you sure? I thought I was only Poseidon’s heir.”

  “You carry Poseidon’s magic in your blood and a gift from the hand of Yahweh around your neck. That’s two gods who have decided to involve themselves in this business.” Alexis didn’t look particularly pleased about it, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity either.

  Penelope used her thumbnail to break the golden wax that sealed the top of the tube. There was no magical reaction, so Alexis gave her a nod, and she unscrewed the lid and tipped the tube upside down. When no scroll fell out, Penelope lifted the tube to her eye.

  “That’s weird. There’s nothing—” Aqua and gold magic flew out of the tube and shot into her third eye. Alexis shouted as gold light clouded her vision and the magic took hold.

  Penelope saw images of white beach sand and blue water. Poseidon smiled at her as he walked to the edge of the waves. His mouth was moving but Penelope couldn’t hold his words in her mind or understand them. With one hand he traced something onto her forehead, magic moving through her with a searing brand. Before she could scream, it was gone. Poseidon cupped her cheeks with his strong hands.

  “Good luck to you, my little heir.”

  The magic lifted, and Penelope came back to herself, gripping the arms of her chair and breathing in panicked gasps. Alexis was kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees.