The Coin of Kenvard

by Joseph R. Lallo

She and Ivy hurried from the room. Myranda continued to work through what she’d learned.

  “If Deacon is using D’Karon portals, as he appears to be, then he can move quickly. But he can only select places the D’Karon designated as anchors, and we’ve been working to dismantle them. That narrows things down. We should focus on finding him. We have myself, Ether, Ivy, Ayna, and Calypso. All of us with at least some experience in distance-seeing and tracking. Myn, Ayna, and Ether can move enormous distances quickly, and working together, either Ayna or Ether could help Myn carry others with similar haste. If we spread out, there are few places on the continent that will be beyond our reach. But it won’t be enough to know where Deacon is. We will need to know where he is going and what he will do when he gets there. Back to the war room. We’ll need the map and every one of our minds.”

  #

  “Ah, perfect,” Calypso said, trotting out of the edge of Melorn Woods.

  She’d been able to devise a reasonably expedient way to travel, and thus had reached the edge of the forest far more swiftly than she’d anticipated. It was a rather taxing method, however, and moreover was quite likely to cause a stir. Magic wasn’t as prevalent out here as it was in Entwell, so she didn’t want to risk concerning the locals if she could avoid it. Now that the pad had been delivered, she was far more interested in keeping an eye on it than focusing on keeping her speed up anyway. It was a welcome bit of luck that she’d stumbled upon a small, strangely isolated tavern of some sort on the thinning fringe of Melorn Woods. The map labeled this region as part of the vast Low Lands, though, to the best of her map-reading abilities, she noted the tavern itself wasn’t labeled. That was no surprise, however. The map she worked from was so old it still showed the borders from before the Northern Alliance had been formed. Rare was the establishment that survived a century and a half of war.

  Calypso stepped in from the cold. The interior of the tavern was dark and smelled strongly of smoke and charred meat. All eyes turned to her. Even after literally dragging herself through a cave and gallivanting through a forest, she was downright pristinely presentable compared to the majority of the dozen or so patrons within. The mermaid paused and searched her memory.

  “The Northern Alliance. Either Crich or Varden,” she murmured to herself. “Desmeres spoke Varden. It is as good a guess as any.” She cleared her throat. “Hello! I am pleased to meet you. I wonder if perhaps I could trouble any of you for a warm drink and a warm meal?”

  “I think you’d best be on your way,” said a scrawny older man behind a rather makeshift bar at the far end of the room.

  Calypso waved off a cloud of pipe smoke. “There doesn’t seem to be another establishment for quite a distance. Do not worry. I was informed that goods and services are exchanged or bartered for here. I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to ask Solomon to give up any of his gold, but Cresh provided me with quite a bit of silver.”

  She pulled a heavy pouch from her bag and revealed the glittering contents. “It isn’t coins, but shape shouldn’t matter that much.”

  The already focused attention on the newcomer sharpened, shifting from irritated curiosity to predatory hunger.

  “Really, ma’am, this isn’t the sort of place you think it is,” said the barman.

  “You shut your mouth,” barked a lanky fellow beside the door. “We should be hospitable. Feed a hungry traveler.”

  Calypso was slightly taken aback by the overall disposition of the thin man. Different wizards developed their magic in different ways. Deacon was rather oblivious to the deeper emotions of those around him. Calypso, no doubt due in part to her predilection for socializing, was quite the opposite. As her mystic mastery grew, so too did her insight into the thoughts and intentions of others. It wasn’t mind-reading, but she was more likely than most to see through a façade. This fellow had erected a rather substantial one in the space of a few words.

  “If it is too much trouble, I can see to myself,” she said.

  “No, no. No trouble,” he said, shutting the door and dropping a brace down. “Not much of a choice here, mind you. A slice of whatever the hunter dragged in, brown bread, and a bit of ale.”

  “I prefer fish, but I’m sure meat and bread will do. I’m not one for ale, though. Is there no water?” she asked.

  “Hah! You can have water if you like. The well’s not too far off.”

  “Lovely. I’ll have a place to sit, a bucket of hot water, a bucket of cold, and a plate of whatever you serve.”

  “Two buckets?” the barkeep said.

  The lanky man turned to the tender. “You heard her!” He led her forward. “You just sit over here. Right by me.”

  Calypso sat at the table beside the man and quickly set her pad down where the stylus would be free to move.

  “What brings a lovely thing like you to a place like this?” he asked.

  “Unfortunate business, I’m afraid. I understand there have been some unpleasant events around here recently?”

  “Mmm,” rumbled a man in the corner whose face was primarily beard and eyebrow. “Madness. Or so they say. People seeing things. Troops are moving.”

  “Oh. Poor thing,” said her gracious benefactor. “Let me guess. With all this danger and uncertainty, you’re looking for somewhere safe to hide, right?”

  “Quite the opposite, in fact. I mean to help. I don’t suppose any of you have any useful information.”

  One of the men in the far corner began to answer. The “helpful” fellow silenced him. “Plenty of time to discuss that after you’ve eaten.”

  The tender produced a bucket of cold water and a loaf of bread first.

  “Thank you. Pardon me for just a moment.”

  She took the bucket and upended it over her head, dousing herself. Those nearby backed away, baffled and bemused. She sighed in relief.

  “My apologies, but that was badly needed.” She picked up the bread. “Oh! I suppose, before I eat anything, I should determine the price.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” the helpful fellow said.

  He wiped at his shirt, which had received a liberal splash of the water, then revealed a hefty weighted leather sack with a wooden handle. “It’ll be all of that silver of yours.”

  “Oh? Rather a steep price,” she said, pushing the pouch across.

  “And hand over that fancy necklace.”

  “The pendant is most certainly not… oh. I see. Brigandage.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “I had a feeling you would be trouble. I really must warn you, I am not someone to be trifled with. I vigorously advise against this sort of behavior. There is no reason you can’t change your mind right now.”

  “I’ll have the silver and the necklace, and we’ll decide what else I want after that,” he said.

  “Sir, I am a rather skilled water mage. Highest master of water magic, if you’ll permit me the boast. As such I have a very high degree of control over water, and there is rather a lot of it running through your veins right now.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said, slapping the sack against his palm with a leaden thump that hinted at the sort of damage a blow to the head might cause. “The necklace or you’ll be missing out on your meal.”

  “Sir, please, one last chance. And you won’t see it, you will feel it.”

  He moved forward to make good on his threat. Though he motioned for the necklace, his fingers never reached it. His body grew still, while a soft light flickered in the pendant. She let the stillness linger for a few seconds, then gently flicked her fingers toward the door. The man hurled backward and struck the door. There he remained, pinned.

  “It is something of a challenge to immobilize you like this while keeping your blood moving properly, so I’ll let you free now, but please consider being a proper gentleman when you are able.”

  She released her influence, and he slid to the ground. Rather than mind his manners as she’d
recommended, he took an equally wise course of action and fled the tavern.

  Calypso clapped her hands and huffed a breath. “That was a bracing bit of defense magic. It has been ages since I’ve had to do something like that. I’ll tell you, I didn’t miss it one bit. Now then, if someone would kindly inform me of the real price for this meal, I’m eager to dig in and work my way through my notes.”

  “I-it’s free of charge, ma’am,” the tender said, eyes wide.

  “Don’t be absurd. You deserve a fair price for your work. Here. I shall leave three nuggets of silver on the table, and if you need more, say so.”

  She scattered the payment and tore a bit of bread to chew on. It wasn’t the finest meal she’d had, but it was better than nothing.

  “Ma’am,” said the man in the corner.

  She turned. “Oh, please, Calypso. How may I help you?”

  “You said you were after information, yes? About the strange things that have been going on?”

  “Oh, yes. It is crucially important I know all I can.”

  “Well, I used to… that is to say, I know a guy who used to keep watch over the Territal archives. I’m fresh from the road, heading up from there, but he said a couple weeks ago something weird happened, and then a couple nights ago something weirder happened…”

  #

  Myranda and the others paced around the war room. The rest of her staff had been sent to their quarters. Now that the king was known to have, at the very least, begun acting erratically, Myranda had decided discretion was called for. They had worked their way through the latest messages delivered via the pads and proposed a dozen different theories that through either observation or deeper thought were abandoned. In light of the concerning events, Myranda had decided to keep Leo by her side rather than risk him befalling something Sadie couldn’t handle. The boy was having the time of his life being bounced between Myranda and Ivy while each of them turned their attention toward or away from the task at hand. Even Ether had reluctantly taken the role of babysitter on occasion, at least until Ayna had returned with sufficient knowledge to cast the spell the elder had sent. Since that moment she had been seated silently in the corner. Her eyes were shut, soft glimmers of light dancing around her as she was treated to what the elder had prepared.

  “Pad!” Leo crowed, clapping wildly as the Entwell pad began sketching out a message.

  Ayna buzzed over and watched the message trace itself out.

  “It is from Calypso. Rather rambling, as tends to be the case… She has a dubiously credible claim that there was an event… more than a week ago in Territal. ‘Things seemed to happen that had already happened.’ This was followed far more recently by a theft, by Deacon. Some manner of item from a general?”

  Myranda hurried over and snatched up the pad. Ayna took the opportunity to place a marker in the indicated location, as Territal had previously been absent from the list of places that were affected.

  “Why wouldn’t we know about that already?” Ivy asked.

  “This is Ulvard. Perhaps King Terrance and Queen Tanya wished to keep their affairs to themselves. More likely they weren’t aware. It seems both the theft and the time echo were late at night and in a remote portion of the capital.” She gazed at the map. “I wish the dates were more precise. If this account can be trusted, that would make this time echo a very early one. It could predate even those Caya described. And the timing of Deacon’s appearance would have made his theft very shortly after whatever happened in the Cave of the Beast. This could have been the first place Deacon went.”

  “But the timing doesn’t make sense. If the time echo Calypso has uncovered happened that long ago, it would have been well before Deacon started doing this.” Ivy tapped her chin. “Unless he’s been doing this since before he left.”

  “No,” Myranda said. “I would have noticed, and even if I missed it, he would have written about it. There was plenty in those notes that was worth hiding if he’d been planning this from the start.”

  “Then why would this newly discovered echo be so long before?”

  “This is crucial information,” Ayna said. “It means the effects of whatever he’s doing are reaching farther back than we’d realized.” She buzzed out over the map. “It means the timing of these echoes don’t mean what we think they mean. They don’t come after he arrives in this place or that to do whatever he believes he needs to do, they come before. As we’d already supposed. But now we know that they come well before,” she finished.

  “Except they don’t always,” Ivy said. “Deacon came here and fought me after the army showed up to the south, but it wasn’t four days after.” Ivy pointed. “And there are so many little echoes. Did he cause those? And when?”

  Ether stood. “I have something.”

  All eyes turned to her. She stepped up to the map.

  “I witnessed an echo firsthand, here.” She pointed. “It did not have the feel of magic behind it. But there was something. A twist of the fabric of existence. The elder’s spell was a remarkably detailed illusory recording of a similar event in Entwell. I saw everything. Felt everything. And that twist of will was absent.”

  “Is it possible the elder just left it out by mistake?” Ivy asked.

  “Send her a message if you must,” Ether said, “but the rest of the illusion was stunningly comprehensive. Every other aspect of the experience was in perfect detail. I cannot imagine a mind sharp enough to record all else would have left it out.”

  “But what does it mean?” Ayna asked.

  “With the D’Karon portals speeding Deacon’s travel, he can reasonably be expected to have visited any of the places where events have occurred within the northern kingdoms and Tressor. But he cannot have gone to Entwell.”

  Myranda nodded. “Yes… It means first that these effects are spreading beyond places Deacon has traveled in the past few days, and it gives us a solid example of a place he has visited versus a place he hasn’t. The places he has directly visited surely have a place in his plan, whatever it is.”

  “More to the point, because the echoes come before he arrives to do whatever is causing them, the events that bear this distinction may not simply let us know where he has been, but if we move quickly enough, where he will be,” Ayna said.

  Ether stepped back and shifted to flame.

  “I must investigate the field to the south. If there is a residue of this twist there, we will have something.”

  She whisked away. Myranda paced back and forth. Gods willing, Ether would soon return with a way of determining where Deacon was going and when he had been or would be going there, but there still remained the most crucial questions. What was he doing, and why? The answers were there, somewhere. She could feel them just beyond her grasp. She turned over other pieces of the recent information.

  “A theft involving one of the generals… if he is in the control of Epidime, it would make sense he would seek something from Bagu or the others. Even something of Epidime’s own. But if Deacon is still himself…” She shut her eyes. “The major events happen in places where significant moments in the life of a Chosen One happened. We’ve seen them in places where the Chosen were held, where they were found. Where they spent years of their lives. Where they died… But Trigorah was Chosen as well. She was disgraced, tainted by her allegiance to the D’Karon and her opposition to the rest of us, but she was Chosen.”

  She leaned on the map table. “He stole something relating to one of the five generals. It could have been her. But why does he need them. What is it about?”

  Myranda fixed her gaze on the table. She flicked her eyes back and forth between the markers they had placed and the notes associated with them. The answers she sought remained elusive, but the edges of the facts began to weave together.

  “The timing…” she mused.

  “What about it?” Ayna asked, darting down to stand atop the map.

  “If Calypso’s account can be trusted,
then the early echo in Territal preceded Deacon’s arrival there by a considerable amount of time. But the echo here and his tampering that may have caused it were much closer together.” She compared the notes. “We don’t know much about what Deacon has been doing, nor precisely where. We don’t even know which of these echoes are in places he directly influenced. But we do know that the more potent events are happening more rapidly as time goes on.”

  “And what does this imply to you?” Ayna asked.

  “Nothing solid… but if Deacon does have a goal, and all of this is echoing back from it, it could be that the goal is drawing nearer to completion. And if things are becoming more intense as we approach that point… we may have a very trying time ahead.”

  The air crackled with power and Ether’s fiery form returned. “Shut your eyes and open your mind.” Ether turned. “All who have the capacity to focus mystically should do the same. I have found something, but I am uncertain of how much value it will be to us.”

  Myranda nodded and called her casting staff to her hand. Ayna flitted over and landed atop it. Both closed their eyes. The frustration and uncertainty of their investigation made proper focus difficult, but Myranda had more experience than most in enduring such madness with a still and steady mind. As the world around her dropped away and the luminous threads of the astral plane replaced them, Ether’s voice filtered into her thoughts.

  “What we seek is undeniable, but subtle,” she whispered. “Seek it south of the city, in the fields where the attack seemed to originate.”

  Myranda coaxed her focus in the direction Ether indicated.

  “It is easily missed. Not a point of light and power like a soul or a working of magic. And it is not the absence of such, as is so often the mark of D’Karon works. It is a scar. A healing wound, getting smaller by the hour. A disruption. I cannot make it any clearer than that.”

  Myranda scoured the shadow of the landscape. She could feel her mind drawn onward by Ether’s will, guided toward something that remained elusive. When her mind finally latched upon what Ether had detected, it was both painfully clear what it was and entirely understandable how it could have been missed. What lay at the center of the bygone disruption was less a defining characteristic and more a disruption of a pattern. Myranda would have had as much luck spotting a single misaligned brick in the palace walls. Once it was before her, it was clear as day, but without knowing precisely where to look, she might never have found it.